Life And What Comes After
by Ibelin
Summary: Obi-Wan dies on Jabiim. Anakin blames himself, doesn't know how to go on and yet - he does. Maybe the Force rewards that kind of thing, or maybe he just gets lucky, but when a mission lands Anakin on a vaguely familiar planet, he gets a second chance to do what he knows he should have done in the first place: save his master. (Working title: "The Amnesia Fluff Fic")
1. The Sixth Stage

The door opened with a soft swish as soon as Anakin pressed his palm to the chime, and Padme stood up from the couch. Her datapad fell to the seat cushion as she ran to him.

"Anakin!"

"Padme." He stepped fully into her apartment and let the door shut behind him, trying to smile.

It must not have looked quite right, because Anakin could feel her already-sharp concern deepen as she wrapped her arms around him and let him fold her into a tight embrace. For a moment they just stood there, barely inside the room, clinging to each other, Padme hiding her face in Anakin's neck and Anakin pressing a kiss to her hair.

Anakin knew he'd given her cause for concern. Five days had passed since he'd touched down on Coruscant - just him and a single-person fighter, no troops or command ships - and this was the first time he'd communicated with her. Even her carefully discreet holo-messages had gone unanswered, and given their usual pattern of seizing any possible opportunity to see each other, Padme had to have been worried.

"Ani," she said, pulling back slightly, just enough to run her hands down his shoulders and look into his face. "Are you- Are you all right?"

"I-" He couldn't say yes. "There's just been a lot to do. After this last battle."

The concerned furrow between Padme's brow didn't fade, and she led him over to the couch gently, as if she were afraid he might fall on his own. Did he look that bad? It was a good thing he hadn't come to see her earlier, then.

It wasn't that Anakin hadn't _wanted_ to see her. Seeing Padme's face, hearing her voice, feeling her determined blaze in the Force, made him feel closer to balanced than he had in weeks. It just... hadn't felt _right_ to come.

They'd been on Jabiim for almost two months. He'd showered again and again since returning to Coruscant, but he could almost still feel the mud caked onto him. The blood, and charred flesh. Trapped on that planet where even the low-hanging sky was their enemy, it was almost impossible to believe he was a luminous being. They were animals, snarling and ripping at each other, killing for survival and leaving the dead behind to be lost in shifting mud and forgotten.

He didn't...he couldn't touch Padme with hands that dripped blood and betrayal. Padme, who fought for peace. Padme, who was pure and rock-solid to the core of her soul. Padme, who had never been a monster.

Anakin's hands were clean as he cupped Padme's jaw, carefully traced her eyebrows with his thumbs, but they still trembled.

She pressed her hand against his larger one, trapping it against her cheek. "Anakin, what is it?"

There was one thing he had to tell her, Anakin knew. He hadn't said it out loud yet.

"We... on Jabiim..." He couldn't do it. "We lost. We lost everything. Everyone." Almost. Almost, just a single word changed- " _I_ lost everyone."

Padme was still looking at him, eyes wide with sorrow and sympathy. "I heard, it was terrible. Unthinkable. Ani, I'm so sorry - I can't even imagine."

She was right. She _couldn't_ imagine, and Anakin was desperately thankful for that. He nodded silently, pressing his lips together and looking away. "Obi-Wan-"

Stepping back a little, Padme clutched his shoulders. He could feel the dread a sudden suspicion had awakened in her heart. "Anakin? Did something - happen?"

He had to say it.

"Didn't make it back." He couldn't look at her. "He's gone, Padme. He's _gone_ , and I-" Anakin stood, numb, and couldn't finish the sentence. What was there to say?

" _No_... Oh, _Anakin_." The wash of grief that filled Padme and the tears that sprang into her eyes surprised Anakin, but the way she gathered him tightly into her arms didn't. She and Obi-Wan had been friends too, after a fashion.

Anakin let himself melt into her, holding onto Padme like she was the only thing keeping him upright. He felt her silent tears against his neck, and finally the tight stranglehold he'd kept on his pain all through the battle and its aftermath frayed and snapped. The first wracking sob felt like someone had ripped out a piece of his chest, and more quickly followed. Padme held him, cried with him, until Anakin was wrung out and numb.

xxx

Anakin sat on the bed. His bed, he thought, only it wasn't.

It was a padawan bed, in a padawan room identical to the one he'd slept in since Obi-Wan had brought him to the Temple from Naboo. "This was my room," Obi-Wan had said, managing to smile. "Now it's yours." Jedi did not possess anything, and this room was the same as his own. The same walls, desk, bed, and carpeting. The only thing that it lacked was Anakin's imprint left in the Force from years of living, sleeping, studying, and feeling there, and Obi-Wan's from the many years before that.

Whoever had lived here before, he didn't know, but their soft resonance was all-pervading in the Force. The unfamiliarity of it made the room around him, identical as it was to his own, seem surreally stange.

Jedi possessed nothing, but the Force was always their ally. The Force could never be taken away. That's what Obi-Wan would tell him, if he were here.

Anakin squeezed his eyes shut. As a comfort it felt like nothing, like worse than nothing, but for his master he would try to believe it was enough. For Obi-Wan, he would _try_.

"Padawan?"

Anakin's eyes flew open - he jumped to stand. "Master Mundi."

Ki-Adi Mundi brought with him a brisk calm, the same cool peace that permeated every room in these quarters, but it did not soothe Anakin's startled shame. Master Mundi had come looking for him. He was late - how long had he been sitting there?

"No need for alarm, Padawan. The hour at which we are to meditate has not yet arrived."

Anakin was shielding tightly and they had not yet established a training bond, but Obi-Wan had always told Anakin that no one needed the Force to know what he was thinking when it showed on his face like a holoprojector. He nodded, trying to smile. "I apologize if I am... distracted, Master Mundi."

Master Mundi inclined his pale head, stepping closer to Anakin and touching his shoulder briefly. "There is no failure here that you need apologize for. I know that you and Master Kenobi shared a deep bond, and its loss is an act of violence to the soul. It is right for you to feel its pain, just as you would from an act of physical violence. Your body would not be working correctly if you were injured and felt nothing, and just so neither would your soul."

"Master Yoda told me that I shouldn't mourn. That I should rejoice for... for those who join the Force. That I shouldn't... m-miss them," Anakin stammered, swallowing past the lump in his throat.

He'd had this conversation before, with Obi-Wan, and had quoted Master Yoda with bitterness then. Now, he repeated the words almost desperately. If _only_ he could rejoice. If _only_ he could see past the awful, yawning hole that had been ripped into his life, to the hope that all his teachers seemed to think lay beyond it.

When his mother had died in his arms, he had been sure that all the light in the universe had been extinguished with her. Her loss had consumed him, filled his whole being with agony so acute he had thought he would surely die of it; instead, it had been the Tuskens who died. This was different, because his life continued almost as it had before. He might be able to walk through a whole day feeling almost normal, and then suddenly doing something as ordinary as making himself some tea would have choked panic filling his throat and tears blurring his eyes.

How could he live, when he would never again be able to hear Obi-Wan complaining about his taste in tea? When he would never be able to make his tired, exasperated master a cup of tea exactly how he liked it, and see his eyes crinkle, and know he'd just taken the edge off whatever punishment he was about to be sentenced to? How could they expect him to _live_ , much less _rejoice_?

Anakin set his mouth, blinking and trying to breathe evenly. He would not humiliate himself in front of Master Mundi.

"And so you should," agreed Master Mundi after a minute's contemplation. "Death is a part of life for all beings, and so is loss. All wounds must heal - if they fester, they will lead to death. But even healed wounds do not leave you unmarked, and," he said with a slight smile, "Master Yoda did not say you should do it _immediately_."

"He sounded as though he did."

"Not to be glib, but you may have noticed that Master Yoda is rather _old_. I've found that his perception of time can be rather different than that of those of us with rather shorter lifespans."

Anakin did smile at that, surprised at the humorous glint in placid Master Mundi's eyes. "If it's not time to meditate yet, Master Mundi, did you want me for something else?" he asked.

"Yes, I just wanted to speak with you for a moment. We are to go on together from here, and I want us to understand each other."

Anakin nodded, frowning. "What about?"

Master Mundi paused for a moment before speaking. Finally, he said, "A padawan's task is to seek the path to understanding; a master's task is to clear and light that path. It is a journey they take together - a partnership, if you will. You come to me having already made much of that journey with another's guidance, and, no matter what follows after, that will always belong to you. To both of you."

He was looking at Anakin gravely, and Anakin bowed his head in acknowledgement, even though he wasn't quite sure that he actually understood.

"Master Kenobi was very proud of you, and I know he looked forward to seeing you knighted. I simply wanted to express to you that is my honor to walk with you what little way there is left to go - and I expect that you will wish to honor Master Kenobi by completing building on the good foundation he has laid."

"Yes, Master Mundi." He could say that much absolutely truthfully.

"Good. Then I will leave you to yourself until it is time to meditate."

Anakin gave a short bow and Master Mundi turned to go. Before he reached the door, Anakin remembered something he'd been thinking about yesterday as he worked himself to exhaustion in the training salle. "...Master Mundi?"

Master Mundi turned expectantly, and Anakin hesitated. He probably wouldn't have said something like this to Obi-Wan, worried more about avoiding the lecture and difficult advice that would follow than he was about the problem itself, but... Anakin swallowed, setting his jaw. If he was going to be a Jedi, he was going to have to get himself there. If he was going to be a Jedi, it was time to start acting like one because he knew he should, and not because Obi-Wan made him.

"I - I'm not just sad," Anakin admitted. _Sad_ was a meaningless, tiny word that came as close to summing up what he felt as a cacta bush on Tatooine came to being an Alderaanian forest. "I'm angry and - and I'm... ashamed."

"What of?"

"Myself. I'm angry at myself and - and the Force, I guess, but mostly myself. I didn't really... I made my master's life hard, when I didn't need to. I didn't listen to him, and I - I was selfish, almost always. I'm sorry and I wish... I wish I would have done better - I wish I could try again, but I can't, and - and he did so much for me and he was so important to me, but I didn't show it, and I'm so sorry and I won't ever get the chance to tell him." His words were running away with him and the tears were starting again. Anakin clenched his jaw and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, covering them. "And I don't know what to do."

Master Mundi was quiet for a minute, and the burn of tears behind his eyelids was all Anakin could feel.

"What do you think Master Kenobi would say to you, if he were here?"

Anakin sniffed, smiling despite himself. "He'd say, 'You'll be taking all this back when I wake you up tomorrow morning'," he answered instantly, with a watery laugh. Scrubbing one hand across his eyes, he blinked rapidly and tried to focus on Master Mundi's slight smile and not the fact that he would never again be awakened by Obi-Wan's voice and a gentle tug on his padawan braid.

"And after that?"

Probably _who are you, and what have you done with my padawan_ , but Anakin assumed Master Mundi meant for him to skip past all the banter. He pictured Obi-Wan, how he would soften when he was about to be serious, at his most gentle when he was about to be most grave. Anakin took a deep breath.

"What is the difference between self-pity and remorse, Padawan?" said Anakin finally.

"And what is that difference?"

"Self-pity refuses to let go of the past - true remorse changes in the present."

Master Mundi smiled again. "An adaptation of Master Yarocel's _Treatise on Suffering_."

Was it? Anakin had certainly never read it, though it did sound like Obi-Wan's idea of something interesting. "My master would tell me to accept greater self-knowledge even if it is painful, and keep my mind on the present." He hoped Obi-Wan might also tell him that he forgave him.

"You have your answer, then?"

Anakin nodded slowly, still thinking. "Yes, Master Mundi." He knew that the way he couldn't bring himself to simply call Master Mundi 'master', the way he couldn't speak of Obi-Wan as anything but 'my master' was a glaring vestige of still-raw attachment, and he was fine with that. Whatever Master Yoda might think, Master Mundi had said it was all right not to be completely adjusted immediately. Perhaps he would get there eventually. Not today.

"Thank you," he added suddenly. Master Mundi paused to incline his head and smile, before the soft swish of the door left Anakin alone with his thoughts.


	2. Shatterpoint

Anakin didn't have anyone to practice with.

It wasn't exactly an unusual state of being - not in the padawan training salle anyway. "The Den," it was called: a place for padawans to practice their techniques with each other and spar, away from the critical eyes of the masters. 'What happens in the Den stays in the Den,' was the saying.

Mostly what happened in the Den for Anakin was that he sparred holo dummies and Mark-H remotes, by himself. Aayla Secura had sparred with him once, he remembered (Djem So, very good) but he'd been twelve and she'd been a senior padawan, and he was pretty sure it was because Obi-Wan and Quinlan wanted him out of the way so they could talk about things they didn't want him to hear.

Anakin had gotten used to practicing alone. Not many padawans would outright refuse to duel him, but it just wasn't worth it to have to seek out a reluctant, stiffly polite partner every time. Easier to just fight the holo dummies, and they were usually more of a challenge anyway. It had been a while since he'd had to use the Den, though, and this time he practiced alone for a different reason.

Nobody was avoiding or ignoring him. There was just absolutely nobody around.

Okay, there were a few very young padawans over in the corner, more goofing around than practicing. They were far too intimidated to approach Anakin, though, and too inexperienced to bother sparring with. Even the upper mezzanine balcony was completely deserted. Everybody old enough to be of use in the war was either on assignment at the Temple, in the field with their master, or just kriffing dead.

The padawan pack, for instance. Eight other padawans he'd fought with on Jabiim - all stubborn as banthas, all complete idiots in that clear-eyed Jedi way, and all dead now. They had all lost their masters on that planet, as well. Nineteen Jedi and eight padawans, dead in the mud. He'd be dead too if he hadn't been leading the evacuation, itself an exercise in travesty.

And what for! What the FORCE had it been for?

Anakin slashed at his holographic opponent as the faceless figure backflipped out of reach. Teeth bared in a snarl and sweat stinging his eyes, Anakin didn't pause for even second; powerful Djem So strikes allowed the holo's flashy Ataru style no rest, pouncing on every possible opening and overwhelming its agility. It was only a matter of time. The holo didn't run out of energy like a real Ataru practitioner eventually would, but aerials were particularly vulnerable to Anakin's aggressive Form V. He'd already seen three opportunities to strike a winning blow, but he wasn't done yet.

Relentless, Anakin hammered on the hologram's nimble defense, cornering it like a hunting nexu until it was trapped without space to maneuver. It had only one choice - get past him and out into the open, somehow - and it attempted a spinning attack, meant to force him to fall back. Movements rushing together in a single heartbeat, Anakin beat the holo's blow aside and slid inside its guard. One quick flick of his weapon and an easy _sai cha_ strike had sliced through the hologram's transparent neck.

A flesh and blood opponent or even a droid would have given Anakin the satisfaction of hearing its head fall to the floor. A solid, physical sign of defeat. The death of the dishonorable.

The faceless hologram only flickered from its usual cool blue color to crimson, and offered him a bow, conceding the match before deactivating. It disappeared over the space of a moment, leaving Anakin standing alone in the middle of the salle, out of breath and lit 'saber dipping towards the mats.

Lined up against the far wall, one of the training droids let out a speculative electronic beep.

Anakin turned his head pointedly and narrowed his eyes. "Keep your opinions to yourself, Eleven."

The droid swiveled its cylindrical head, visual sensors blinking on and off. Sighing, Anakin powered down his 'saber and walked back toward the control panel set in the wall. "I know," he said, "but I have to get better at this, Eleven. If I'm going back into the field, I have to be ready."

"Skywalker."

Anakin jumped nearly a foot, looking around at the door and the rest of the room before he remembered to look up. He might have thought Eleven somehow mysteriously gained a human voice and spoke to him, except that he knew that voice far too well.

Sure enough, there was Master Windu leaning on the upper railing, looking down at him with raised eyebrows. "Talking to yourself?"

Sudden noise came from the group of padawans on the other side of the room. They might have gasped, realizing the Master of the Order was in their midst, in this most unlikely of all places. Master Windu clearly cared for their presence about as much as he did for that of the droids, though. They could go back to playing push-feather, or whatever it was they were doing. Anakin wasn't so lucky.

He shrugged. "Nope. Just TD 1138, here. We're old friends."

"I see."

It was obvious Master Windu was here for a reason. Probably to warn Anakin about the consequences of not listening to Ki-Adi Mundi, and that he should be grateful, and that this was his last chance. The polite thing would have been to run up right away and present himself attentively for whatever Master Windu had to say. Instead, Anakin just waited expectantly. If Master Windu wanted something, he could ask for it.

"Get up here, Skywalker."

Or he could demand it - that worked too. Anakin sighed, and climbed up to the mezzanine.

It was smaller up there, darker and more enclosed than the wide-open training mats below. When they moved away from the rails, the padawans below weren't even in their line of sight.

Anakin crossed his arms. "Master?"

Master Windu looked at him for a moment, silent and imposing and the physical representation of everything Anakin resented. Anakin took a second to hate the fact that Master Windu was still taller than him. Since he was already twenty standard years old at this point, it was unlikely he'd ever win that battle. But that didn't mean he had to like it.

"Ataru?" said Master Windu finally. "If you want to improve, you should try a Form III opponent."

No kidding. Anakin was perfectly aware that Soresu was more resilient against Djem So than Ataru. For some reason, though, he hadn't really felt like sparring a Soresu wielder today. In a feat of great strength, Anakin summoned a facial expression that wasn't pure scorn. "Yeah?"

"Or Form VII," Master Windu added, like an afterthought. "Do you know what day it is, Skywalker?"

Form VII was Vapaad, and there weren't any complete combat models for it loaded into the Den's virtual opponent database. You'd have to go to the masters' training salle for that, which - not being a knight - Anakin couldn't.

"Centaxday." At this point, Anakin was just confused. What _was_ this conversation.

"Day after council," Master Windu agreed. "And I seem to be without my usual sparring partner for the afternoon."

Oh. Right. Anakin blinked, mouth pressing into a harsh line. What was he supposed to say? 'I'm sorry?' He was sorry. His entire being could sometimes be boiled down to the word _sorry_ , but Master Windu's lack of a partner was the least of his concerns.

"Would you care to join me?"

He couldn't have heard that right. Anakin stared, but Master Windu was as serious as ever. "I'm not Obi-Wan, Master Windu."

"I'm very aware of that," said Master Windu dryly. "But it looks like you need some Djem So training against an actually challenging partner if you want to become a practitioner of the form, and I think you would be a worthwhile opponent. What do you say, Skywalker?"

 _I think you would be a worthwhile opponent._

Anakin realized, with gradually dawning shock, that this was a _request_.

Thumbs hooked in his belt, Master Windu was waiting. Three seconds ago, that had been the first good thing Master Windu had said about him not followed by "but" in as many years as Anakin could remember knowing him. It was that, and the novelty of being _asked_ rather than ordered, that had Anakin tilting his head and shrugging one shoulder. "Sure. Here?"

Anakin gestured with his 'saber hilt down at the training floor below, but Master Windu shook his head. "The sparring arena. More space, less..." He waved a dismissive hand at the Den, indicating something Anakin wasn't quite sure of. "Leave the padawans to their games."

That decided, Master Windu turned and strode toward the door that would dump them from the mezzanine out into a First Knowledge Quarter side hallway. Anakin followed, more than slightly dazed and again feeling like a rangy young boy next to Master Windu's imposing figure.

The sparring arena was the most public practice room in the Temple: huge, multi-staged, and open for use to everyone in the Temple except younglings. It was one of the places you could count on almost always finding a big group of beings - along with the refectories and the Temple training ground - no matter what time of the day or week. Every time Master Windu sparred there, instead of the more private masters' salle, it turned into an _event_.

Anakin had watched him and Obi-Wan there a few times, cheering for his master even though Master Windu won every time. Usually they had used the masters' salle for their Centaxday matches, though. When he thought about it, Anakin had figured they did it for the privacy; mostly, he'd just seen it as a convenient period of time when he knew Obi-Wan would be out of the way.

Master Windu had to know they were going to draw a huge audience. Why would he choose that? Maybe he wanted to thrash Anakin publicly, demonstrate how unfit he was to be a Jedi.

"You haven't practiced Form V long, have you?"

"Huh?" They were in a lift, heading down towards the center of the Temple. Anakin had to work for a second to get his spinning mind to focus on the question he'd been asked. "No, not that long. I started studying it after Geonosis." After he'd lost his hand, and had to re-learn all kinds of technique with his prosthetic.

"What led you to that decision, in particular?"

He shrugged. "Ataru didn't work." Not on Geonosis, not later. "It's not as suited to the type of combat we face now. And what else am I going to practice? Soresu's not my thing." Niman wasn't worth mentioning. "Makashi?" Anakin made a scoffing noise before he remembered that some other beings besides Dooku were Makashi practitioners - Ki-Adi Mundi, for one.

Master Windu didn't reprimand him for disrespect, though, not even tacitly. He looked at Anakin sideways, eyebrow raised, and his presence in the Force almost seemed _amused_ before it was obscured again by his shields. "Juyo?"

"Is that an invitation?" snarked Anakin. He knew it wasn't. _Juyo_ meant _Vapaad_ , and that was Master Windu's sole purview. "I'm not stupid enough to think you would ever let me study Juyo, even if I wanted to."

It was almost heady, addressing Master Windu with such deadly honesty. Obi-Wan had never tolerated anything but scrupulous respect in public interactions with other masters, but Obi-Wan wasn't here now, and Anakin was on his own. Master Windu could do whatever the hells he wanted to do with Anakin. Level any punishment, delay his knighting indefinitely, completely kick him out of the Order - and Anakin knew better than to think anyone else would fight for him.

Under the circumstances, speaking his mind so brazenly felt a little like swaggering up to a ravenous gundark, unarmed, and spitting in its eye.

"You're right," said Master Windu, matter-of-fact. "Djem So is a good choice, though. It's versatile enough to stand you in good stead both in blaster combat and against Force-wielders, and it draws on your strengths. You'll be formidable, once you master the self-control necessary for such an aggressive form."

Anakin's fists were clenched at his sides, and he bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood. At that moment, he was more infuriated by Master Windu's very existence than he could ever remember being. His detachment, his strength, his certainty which brooked no opposition - the way he walked through these halls, talked about these things like he _owned_ them.

"Like the self-control we showed on Jabiim? Or Muunilinst, for that matter? We took fourteen Separatist bases in twenty-one days, Master Windu. There was no _way_ we could sustain those gains, we didn't have the troops or the equipment, but we did it anyway. Because we were ordered to, because someone at command was in a kriffing _hurry_." The words piled on top of each other, and no sooner had he spoken one than Anakin had fifteen more primed to fire like flak cannons. "We thought we could conquer an entire planet in thirty days. No idea what we would face, no clue about the terrain, no idea of the enemy's strength, but by the Force we needed those mines, so what the hell! That doesn't sound like _self-control_ to me, Master."

"If you're unsatisfied with the credibility of the Order, Skywalker, you're free to seek whatever path you wish."

"Is that what you want?" Anakin stopped.

They'd reached the wide hallways of the central Temple, but he was past caring who saw. Cold disgust filled him, rooting him to the spot. Was that why Master Windu had sought him out - what this entire encounter had been leading up to?

Master Windu had paused several paces ahead, his shoulders and back a rigid square. When he turned, every step that took him back towards Anakin was heavy. His shields had cracked a little, and everything Anakin could sense from him was like a sharp slap in the face. Lifting his chin, Anakin looked Master Windu in the eyes.

"It's not _about_ what I want," he said, with exaggerated slowness.

"Isn't it? You never wanted me to be trained! You never wanted me to be a Jedi. You've distrusted and doubted and hindered and blocked me every step of the way- Don't you think I know how you feel about me? Don't you think I _know_ that the only reason I'm still here right now is because of Qui-Gon Jinn, and because of Obi-Wan? And now, because my master is - dead-" Anakin stumbled a little over the word, "you think you can make me disappear? Well guess what, Master Windu. I have problems with the Order, I definitely kriffing do - but I _am_ a Jedi. And if you want me to leave the Order, you're going to have to throw me out."

Anakin realized the truth of it as he said it, like the words themselves had unlocked something inside him. He'd thought about leaving the order so often, as a child and a teenager and after he married Padme, and maybe he still would, someday. But he stood under these arching pillars with a lightsaber clipped to his belt and knew, like a sudden revelation, that he wanted this. Anakin wanted to master the Force, master himself, and win this war. Being a Jedi was part of who he was, and he had a duty.

 _Duty_ had been one of Obi-Wan's favorite words, it seemed like, and Anakin had grown to despise hearing it. He suddenly saw, now, that he'd misunderstood. He'd been thinking of duty as the kind of thing you had to get out of bed and do because you had no choice, because you'd be punished if you didn't, because Watto wouldn't let you and your mom eat if you didn't.

Obi-Wan had meant something a lot closer to _loyalty_.

"You're right, Skywalker. I never wanted you to be trained," said Master Windu. "But it doesn't matter, it never did. I don't decide who becomes a Jedi and who doesn't."

Anakin scoffed. "Coulda fooled me."

"Let. Me. Speak. Do you know what I can do, Skywalker? That I can see things others can't?"

Anakin nodded. Shatterpoints. Everyone knew that Master Windu had the rare ability to sense fault lines in the Force, confluences of significance or of weakness. Nobody had ever been able to adequately explain to him how it worked.

Master Windu's voice was low and curt, and Anakin would have been a fool to miss the danger behind it. "That makes it very hard for me to look at you, without thinking that you're a bomb. I see you and I'm thinking, this is my home, these Jedi are my family, and you're a thermal detonator sitting pretty, right smack in the center of everything."

"Why?" cried Anakin, sounding far too distraught. A voice, Obi-Wan's clipped accent saying, _The boy is dangerous._ He'd been a child! What could he have done to deserve this, even back then?

"Because you're about to _shatter_ , Skywalker. You always have been. Here." Three fingers jabbed, blunt pressure over Anakin's heart, and then came up to tap at his temple. Anakin swallowed. He could feel the weight of Master Windu's foreboding like it was his own, and his fingers pressing just at the root of Anakin's padawan braid. "And right here. Can't you feel it?"

 _All things die, Anakin Skywalker._

He wanted to deny it, demand 'what the Sith hells are you talking about' - but he couldn't. He knew exactly what Master Windu was describing, felt it all the time. Anakin had felt those cracks the day his mother died, felt them when he fought Ventress for the first time in the skies over Muunilinst, felt them break wide open on Jabiim. He'd thought they were hidden, though, even from Obi-Wan in their deepest meditations - his own anxieties, his own imagination, his own nightmares. He never even suspected that Master Windu, of all people, could see them painted over his heart as clear as anything when they passed in the halls.

When Master Windu stepped back, Anakin's eyes lifted to meet his again. He knew he looked scared. Denying it had never been in the cards. Master Windu could see the admission on his face, but he didn't look victorious or vindicated. He looked tired.

"Master..." Anakin trailed off, tried again. "I want to be a Jedi, Master Windu. I'm doing my best... I don't want to hurt anyone. What else can I do?"

The way Master Windu looked at him was strange, resigned and a little amused. "The fact that I voted against accepting you into the Order ten years ago became irrelevant to everyone, including me, ten years ago. My concern since then has been not that _I_ didn't want you trained, but that _you_ didn't want you trained."

"Yes I did," Anakin tried to argue. Sure, he hadn't been the best student, and he'd thought about leaving several times, but there were plenty of times that he would have refused, if he'd been offered the chance to walk away.

" _Obi-Wan_ wanted you trained," said Master Windu, dry as a bone, "and you wanted Obi-Wan to be your parent. You wanted him to be attached to you, to be proud of you. And he was. But, outside of that, you acted like a child being dragged around against your will and under protest. That's not the way to train a Jedi.

"If you had been raised in the creche, you would have had until the time you took the Initiate Trials to decide whether the Jedi path was one you wanted to follow. Not everyone is meant to be a Jedi - plenty of initiates choose a different life, every year - but you had that choice made for you, and I haven't seen you make peace with it yet. You can't commit yourself to the Order reluctantly, halfheartedly, _under protest_."

"I know that." Anakin's ears burned. In the back of his mind, he thought it was probably going to take a while to recover from being slapped upside the head with the realization that Master Windu saw straight through him, all the way down to his bones, after a lifetime of thinking Master Windu was the most unfairly biased master on the Council.

"Good." Master Windu spread his hands. "You said it yourself. You have been trained. Senior Padawan Learner Anakin Skywalker. You'll be Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker in a matter of weeks if everything goes to plan. You _are_ a Jedi. If that's what you want, there are ways to control this. Not every shatterpoint has to shatter. But this is the part where you have to decide: what _do_ you want, Skywalker?"

"I want..." Shaking his head, Anakin thought hard. He wanted to be a Jedi, to spend his life helping people, but sometimes... the _Order_. He couldn't shake the memories of all the times he'd been told that he couldn't do anything for some beings, that political or economic pressures prevented them, or that it was impossible. "I want to know," he said, fighting to express himself. "I want to know that- That we're doing _good_."

Master Windu's mouth compressed slightly on one side, in a way that was almost the suggestion of a smile. "Is that what you want? To do good?"

"Yes."

"There are many ways to do good in the galaxy, Padawan. Do you want to do it with the Jedi Order?"

So kriffing persistent. "Yes, Master Windu. I do." Anakin didn't have to think about his answer. "I just. The way we only intervene to help people when it's politically necessary... How many times has the Order let some disastrous crisis happen on a backwater planet without so much as noticing, but intervened with all our skill to save some trade treaty that helps no one but a corporate conglomerate, because the Senate requested it? On Jabiim, we _betrayed_ the native loyalists who had made our invasion possible in the first place. _I_ left them there, to be executed by the Seps, because I had to get our clones out and there wasn't room.

"And I know it's impossible to save everybody. But that didn't have to happen, Master Windu. It didn't have to happen that way. I am a Jedi - I just want to _know_... to know that we're doing as much good as we _can_." Waving a dismissive hand, Anakin added, "Not as much good as is _politically convenient_."

Master Windu's level gaze evaluated him silently, and time stretched. Anakin could see each consideration as he thought. Face as impassive as ever, it was Master Windu's eyes that gave it away - surprise, satisfaction, interest, concern. Anakin stood straight-backed and tall under his judgment.

At last, Master Windu said slowly, "Well, then. Welcome to the Jedi Order, Padawan Skywalker."

Anakin blinked, taken aback when Master Windu bowed to him. A little wrong-footed, he hurried to return the gesture, and only noticed afterward that they had exchanged bows as equals, not as Council Master and padawan.

"Now that that's out of the way..." Quirking an eyebrow, Master Windu turned slightly, as if wondering whether Anakin were still planning on training. Truthfully, Anakin had almost forgotten why they were even there, but he quickly moved to catch up to Master Windu. He felt as if everything he'd always known had turned itself inside-out in the middle of this random hall on the way to the Sparring Arena.

"You're right, incidentally," Master Windu said as they walked. "Earlier, when you said we haven't been waging the war with self-control."

"I'm always happy to hear about how I'm right."

"Do you ever not interrupt?"

"I've been reliably informed that the answer to that question is no," said Anakin, automatically. Obi-Wan would have said, _Whoever informed you of that must be as discerning as they are wise_ , because, of course, it had been him.

Anakin still wasn't used to the invisible kick to the chest he got when he remembered, suddenly, that he wasn't talking to his master, and he never would again.

Master Windu just shook his head. "I'm stepping down as Master of the Order."

"What?!"

"So I can take a more active role in the war," he said, looking at Anakin sideways.

His shock was undignified, Anakin knew, but actually _what?_ Master Windu had chaired the High Council since Anakin could remember.

"The time in which I served the Order best from a Council seat is past. This entire war is a departure from Jedi principles and, though while the Sith lead the Separatists we have no choice but to fight, I sense that there is great danger in taking this course. We need to be incredibly careful, and we have not been."

"So, who's taking over? Master Yoda?"

"Probably. The vote will be held tomorrow. Shortly after, I will be heading to Haruun Kal."

They had reached the Sparring Arena, and Master Windu paused near the door, frowning. Anakin waited as well, unsure why he was being told all this.

"Is Master Billaba still missing?" he asked. That could be the only reason for another mission to Haruun Kal.

"Yes, she is." Master Windu frowned, whatever he was thinking about directed inwardly. "When I go, I plan to leave Systems Army Alpha under the temporary command of you and Ki-Adi. You'll be sent to Praesitlyn; clone intelligence has picked up whispers of the ICC there being targeted by the Separatists, and Sluis Van may need your reinforcements."

 _You and Ki-Adi_ was a very interesting way to phrase that, Anakin thought, but his musings were blown out of the water by the next thing Master Windu said.

"When I return, if all goes well, you'll be knighted and given your own command."

Anakin's mouth dropped open. He hadn't missed when Master Windu alluded to him being knighted, earlier, but he'd thought it was just a placating notion for some time in the future - not that Master Windu actually had a specific timetable worked out! If Obi-Wan had given him this news, he'd have probably made an impatient gesture and said 'It's about time!' Ferus Olin had been knighted years ago, after all.

Now measuring himself against Ferus Olin sounded ludicrous, even inside his own head, and all he could think of was that somebody besides Obi-Wan was going to have to cut off his padawan braid.

"Think you can handle that, Skywalker?" Master Windu was watching him, gaze sharp.

What was he supposed to say? The irrational thought that this might all still be some kind of setup to watch Anakin fail streaked through his mind like an errant comet. For a minute, he thought about what might be the humble thing to reply. Then he shrugged.

"Absolutely, Master."

Master Windu smiled. Frankly, it was terrifying. "I don't want to see you fail, Skywalker." How had he known what Anakin was thinking? He palmed the entry key, and the doors to the Sparring Arena hissed open. "Except on the mats, of course, where you most definitely will."

Anakin bristled, but it was the pure anticipation of a challenge, the rising excitement of testing himself against long odds. "We'll see about that," he said, and followed Master Windu into the room without fear.

xxx

Not many days later, Anakin and Master Mundi were leaving the Coruscant cruiser staging area as the last warm light of the evening faded. The tallest city skyscrapers had already blotted most of it from view, but there was still a faint glow that lined everything with gold. It would last until Coruscant's sun set fully, and the city lights overpowered the sky instead.

"The crews are on schedule to have everything ready for tomorrow's departure, General," Clone Commander Bacara was saying. "Although I still think we're carrying too much dead weight. The Nova Corps' tactical use comes from its flexibility and maneuverability. Traveling with a full Sector Army-"

"You may be right, Commander," answered Master Mundi, "but until we discover the situation on Praesitlyn we cannot say with certainty what capabilities we will need."

They had been over this already. A lot. Bacara wasn't really pleased with attaching his unit to the hierarchy of a larger force not under his command, that much was clear. Anakin could tell from the Force that Master Mundi found him somewhat frustrating, despite the always-pleasant exterior he presented. Honestly, he reminded Anakin of Alpha, the hard-nosed, back-talking ARC trooper who'd led his and Obi-Wan's clone forces until he, too, was killed on Jabiim.

Only listening with half an ear - which was probably more than Master Mundi was listening with at this point - Anakin paused on the accessway that led from the staging area to the attached military base. Down the other concourse, Master Windu stood looking out over the busy shipyard, hands tucked in the wide sleeves of his cloak and a familiar expression on his serious face that Anakin couldn't quite name.

"Hey, Master Ki-Adi," interrupted Anakin. "What's Master Windu doing here?"

Master Mundi paused as well, looking in the direction Anakin's pointing finger indicated. "Ah, waiting for his transport to Haruun Kal, I should imagine."

 _Oh, right,_ Anakin remembered. And just like that, he knew exactly what Master Windu's expression meant.

"I'll be right back!"

He ran the length of the accessway easily. Master Windu undoubtedly sensed and heard him coming the whole time, but he only looked over once Anakin had clattered to a stop beside him.

"Skywalker." He took in Anakin's entire being with a cursory glance, and then turned back to surveying the staging area. "I take it you and Master Mundi anticipate a successful launch?"

"Yep," said Anakin. "Complaints and a few mild catastrophes aside. When are you leaving?"

"Any minute now. You?"

"Tomorrow morning. Early." A nod was the only answer, and that uneasy, weighted look had settled back onto Master Windu's face. "I know what you're thinking."

That got Master Windu's attention, even if his eyebrows were very skeptical. "Oh?" he said, deadpan, like he wasn't even sure he wanted Anakin to enlighten him.

"Don't worry, Master. She'll be fine," said Anakin, and watched Master Windu's face shut down.

Wincing, Anakin was almost afraid he'd gone too far, but nothing snapped back at him in the Force. After a moment, Master Windu said, "And how would you know that."

Because Depa Billaba was a fearsome Jedi Master in her own right, a member of the Jedi Council, and one of only two expert Vapaad practitioners besides Master Windu himself. But Master Windu was already well aware of all that, and Anakin knew from personal experience that the 'I'm worried about my stupid padawan' malady would never respond to logic, anyway. Instead, he just smiled brightly and said, "Because _you_ trained her."

Master Windu just looked at Anakin for a minute, as if he couldn't figure out for the life of him what kind of strange creature Anakin was.

When a ship landed just below them, both stepped back and shielded their faces from the blowback air. It was a midsize cargo transport, just the thing for getting out of the Core Worlds without much notice, and its 187th Legion clone escort marked it unmistakably as Master Windu's ride. Anakin crossed his arms, moving out of the way.

He stepped down towards the ramp, but then looked back at Anakin. "Be careful on Praesitlyn, Skywalker. I don't wish to outlive Qui-Gon's entire lineage."

Nodding, Anakin cycled through reflex Obi-Wan responses, from 'no promises' to 'pot, kettle, black', finally settling on, "I will if you will, Master."

Master Windu apparently decided that was satisfactory. "May the Force be with you."

"May the Force be with you," Anakin answered with Master Mundi, who had come up to stand beside him.

Master Windu strode to his transport and did not look back.

"You know, Master Ki-Adi," Anakin commented over his shoulder, "I've recently realized I have very little clue what's actually going on."

Master Mundi smiled. "Hm. Some would say that realization marks the beginning of wisdom."

They watched as Master Windu's ship lifted up off the ground, hovering slightly for a moment and then shooting away. Anakin lost sight of it against the sunset glare leaking between the towers on the horizon, and then it was gone. For a second they stood, facing the darkening staging area and the glittering city beyond, and then they turned back to their own work.

Tomorrow, they would do the same thing and, if Anakin survived to return, he would be a Jedi Knight.


	3. Incidental Manhunt

**Approximately One Year and Three Standard Months Later**

* * *

"Waxer, you and Jesse cut to the right."

"Yes, sir. Got anything more specific for us than 'right'?"

Anakin squinted in concentration under the hood that shadowed his face. Lounging against a wall and chewing thoughtfully on a strip of dried nerf meat, he hoped he looked like nothing more than a bored market-goer, perhaps a tired husband waiting for his wife to finish her shopping. Not that he knew what that was like - Padme's style of shopping was goal-oriented and always efficient.

"Thirty degrees."

Anakin tracked the movements of the clones' distinctive white armor out of the corner of his eye as he watched the market. The crowd parted in front of them as Waxer and Jesse tweaked the trajectory of their measured patrol according to Anakin's instructions. Some beings looked at the passing clones with irritation, most with interest, but the Republic's presence on Centares had been constant since the planet had been retaken from the Separatists early on in the war. Almost none reacted with fear, which _should_ in theory be making his search easier, Anakin thought.

Narrowing his eyes even further, Anakin extended his awareness, scanning for the distinct tang of guilt and fear plaguing a former councilor of the Centares Military Council. The man wasn't difficult to spot in the Force - that was how Anakin had identified him as the Separatist informant in the first place - but the sheer _volume_ of beings in this multi-level marketplace was posing an obstacle.

Anakin turned his head sharply, sensing a spike of something familiar in the Force. "Echo, near you. The green coat, brown hood."

The clones were instantly on the move, a burst of action at the edges of the market. Echo lunged for their fugitive, but Anakin had already turned away. The Force was pulling at him, and Anakin made the jump to the uneven, sloped roof of the building behind him in seconds. The shopkeeper whose vegetable booth he'd used as a leg up fussed loudly, but Anakin was already running, circumnavigating the marketplace from rooftop to rooftop.

There was a chase in progress below, shouts floating up to Anakin from various quarters. He kept one ear on the clones' comm chatter, but his main focus was elsewhere. There was somewhere up ahead, a place the wordless shout of the Force told him he needed to be.

"We've lost the general."

That was Rex's voice on the comm. The chase had turned left, the Sep spy leaving the fresh food area of the market and ducking through one of the narrow alleys that led to another part. This whole place was enormous; subdivided into individual circular open areas where people sold their wares, each market circle connected to four others through alleys that punctured each one like the spokes on a wheel. The market was a maze in which one nondescript human male could easily find a place to disappear.

Unfortunately for him, he had Jedi after him.

"I'm with you, Rex," Anakin said into his comm as he leaped over the alleyway, turning left to follow the curves of the roof to the next market circle. Rex didn't bother wasting time asking for clarification, and Anakin wasn't listening anyway. "Cut him off! Lead him east." He put on a burst of speed, clearing the next alleyway without breaking his stride, and turned to follow its path straight ahead.

"Copy, General."

The clones had already been spreading out, racing to flank the fleeing man. Anakin could feel his terror, honed in on it like a hunting nexu, and did not slow even as he oustripped the clones, outstripped the target, and raced on to the next market circle.

"Lost visual on the target."

"I haven't," grunted Anakin. "Keep going."

Finally, he paused, boots sliding on the domed roof as he stopped abruptly above the narrow gap that dropped down into the next alleyway. Turning back, he watched as the clones' high-speed search disturbed the market circle like a stone dropped into a pond, sending ripples out in every direction. One particular ripple was heading Anakin's way at a rushed pace, having found the other three alleyways blocked by searching clones.

As the man ran into the alley below him, Anakin let himself drop. He landed hard on the unevenly cobbled street, 'saber ignited and humming in his hand. The other people in the alley scattered and fled immediately, but when the Sep spy turned to run as well, he found his way blocked by Rex and Fives.

"Well, this was fun," Anakin said. "But it's over now."

The man was trapped. He'd lost his hood somewhere in the chase, and now stood with clear panic in his eyes, hair matted to his head with sweat and chest heaving to catch his breath. Rex moved to grab and restrain him, but the man jerked away. He charged at Anakin like he was going to try to overpower him with his bare hands.

What was he trying to do - earn a quick and painless death by lightsaber? Instead, Anakin punched him in the face.

It had been a left-handed punch, so the man was still conscious, although his nose was almost certainly broken. He was easily scraped up and restrained with magnacuffs.

"Back to the Rotunda. It's time to find out what this scum has fed to the Separatists," Rex ordered.

Anakin had powered his 'saber down, all set to agree, but then hesitated. He cocked his head slightly, reaching into the Force and finding nothing but an unexplained emphatic negative. They had captured their spy, so why was the Force still urgently prompting him? It wasn't danger - he had more than enough experience with the Force's sudden warnings, and even vague premonitions of danger ahead, to know that.

"General?"

"You head back. Deliver this guy to Master Plo - he's _more_ than competent to interrogate him." Anakin walked with Rex back to the last market square. "I've got some unfinished business here."

"Yes, sir."

Rex didn't question him. Anakin had known he wouldn't, which just left him with the problem of figuring out what in the galaxy he was actually doing here.

This market circle seemed mostly devoted to second-hand electronics, each booth stacked up its sides with bulky old comm receivers and amplifiers, or strewn with smaller pieces on top. At least he hadn't ended up in the carpeting section of the market or something, Anakin thought. After the ruckus in the alley, there was no hope of going unnoticed here; he nodded respectfully at every shopkeeper he passed, setting them at ease that his presence meant no further disruption of business today.

After several minutes, almost everyone had lost interest and gone back to their business. Fewer eyes tracked his every move. Except...

Anakin spun around, searching the crowd. He'd felt something - no, someone - staring at him with more intensity than just the detached curiosity and wariness of the market-goers.

With the easy certainty of the Force, he made his gradual way around the market, stopping to look at whatever he thought was interesting. He felt the heat of that same gaze on the back of his neck several times again. Oddly, whoever it was seemed strangely elusive in the Force. Anakin wasn't particularly concerned, still sensing no danger. He thought he might even buy some cheap power cells for R2 from the booth he was at right now.

Sensing that pointed attention on him again, Anakin turned slightly to glance over his shoulder and found himself looking across three booths and into curious, familiar eyes.

He dropped the power cells. He stopped breathing. For all he knew, the whole planet had stopped spinning.

Dimly, Anakin was aware of the shopkeeper complaining about the power cells, but he didn't have attention to spare for that when he wasn't even certain if his heart was still beating. The man's eyes widened when Anakin looked at him, and he quickly turned, shrugging a satchel over his shoulder and walking away.

It was a long second before Anakin regained enough presence of mind to sprint after him.

"Hey! _Hey_!"

Breathless even though he'd run only about ten paces, Anakin couldn't stop his mouth from falling open when the man turned. He stopped short, only barely avoiding running smack into him. "Fierfek," he whispered. " _Obi-Wan?"_

It was true. He stared at Obi-Wan, drank him in and didn't dare to blink, waiting for what he was seeing to somehow make sense. But it was _true_. Obi-Wan's hair was cut short and fell in bangs over his forehead, he was clean-shaven and he wore civilian clothes, but it would have taken a lot more than that to keep Anakin from recognizing him. His eyes, the mole on his cheek, the way he rubbed his chin as he stepped back a pace...

It was like a trip back in time, and Anakin found himself thinking absurdly of the day he'd first met Obi-Wan on the deck of a J-type Nubian in the middle of the Dune Sea.

"Do you... _know_ me?"

Hearing his voice was like a kick to Anakin's chest, oh _Force_. But the words made no sense.

"Yeah, I know you! Obi-Wan, it's _me_. I don't look _that_ different, do I?"

"I'm afraid I wouldn't know." A wry smile pressed at the corner of Obi-Wan's mouth. "I don't remember."

"You don't rem- what do you mean?"

He shrugged slightly, tugging at the strap of the satchel on his shoulder. A self-conscious gesture, Anakin thought, but Obi-Wan held his gaze evenly. "I don't remember _anything_ before... I suppose it's over a standard year and a half ago, now."

Anakin gaped. "N-nothing?" It made a kind of horrible sense, explained why Obi-Wan was here, alive, and yet nobody had known.

"Not even my name." He hesitated before asking, "You said... Obi-Wan?"

"Yeah. That's you. Obi-Wan Kenobi." This was probably the most surreal thing Anakin had ever experienced, and that was saying something. He reached out in the Force, needing to feel his master, confirm he was real somehow, but ran up against the same barrier he'd felt initially. Anakin frowned, pushing a little against Obi-Wan's shields. "Why are you hiding?"

"Excuse me?"

The confusion on Obi-Wan's face was sincere, even if Anakin could only feel the barest hint of him in the Force. Was it possible Obi-Wan could have forgotten _the Force_? He shook his head. "Never mind."

"Would it be odd if I asked your name?"

"Very odd. I'm Anakin Skywalker."

"Anakin." Obi-Wan smiled at him, eyes never leaving his face. "Pleased to meet you?"

 _You're a Jedi, too? Pleased to meet you._

Anakin had to choke down a slightly hysterical laugh. "Yeah, you too. I-" Anakin caught himself in the middle of reaching for his master. Pulling his hand back abruptly, he crossed his arms. "Holy kriff. What _happened_? How long have you been on Centares? Are you _okay_? I mean - aside from the, uh, amnesia or whatever?"

"I've been here for most of what I can remember. Look-" Obi-Wan held up a hand when he saw Anakin open his mouth again. "You clearly have questions, and I assure you I have more than you. Are you - Do you want to come back to my house? This might be a long conversation."

Somehow the idea of Obi-Wan having a _house_ came as a shock. "Sure, yeah, that sounds like a good idea. Do you-"

"Are you-"

They looked at each other, smiling suddenly at the absurdity.

"Do you have a speeder?" Obi-Wan asked.

Anakin's smile widened into a grin. "A speeder bike."

"Good - I live in the Skrell District."

"Never heard of it."

"It's not very close, I'm afraid. Do you know where the main gate of the market district is?"

"Yes."

"Meet me there, and you can follow me."

Anakin hesitated. Obi-Wan had been about to turn, but then paused and regarded him curiously. "Is there a problem?"

Ducking his head, Anakin admitted, "I - you won't just - disappear again, if I take my eyes off you? I thought -" His voice caught, and Anakin cleared his throat. Obi-Wan didn't even _know_ him. "I thought you were _dead_."

"I'll be there." Obi-Wan put his hand on Anakin's arm, a smile clear in his voice, and Anakin had to look up. "I've lived a whole life, and lost it. You think I'm not eager to get it back? You're the first person I've met who knows me - I don't want to lose you, either."

Anakin only nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He sprinted all the way back to his speeder bike.


	4. Tea And Discoveries

The outer circle of Muracie, the capital city of Centares, was subdivided into orderly blocks set on either side of streets paved with smooth duracrete. It was a sharp contrast to the more organic sprawl and winding roads of the inner part of the city near the Rotunda where Anakin had spent time before. It was possible he'd encountered the Skrell District during the Battle of Centares when he, newly-knighted and freshly assigned to the leadership of the 501st Legion, had helped Master Shaak Ti retake the planet from the Separatists, but at the time he hadn't really had the time for sightseeing.

Now, he parked his bike next to Obi-Wan's speeder in what seemed to be a designated spot, and looked around carefully as he followed Obi-Wan up the steps to the door of a tall, square building. It was all white on the outside, with semi-transparisteel taking the place of luxurious and easily-damaged glass for windows.

"Is this where you live? It's huge." Half a city block huge. It was nothing compared to the Jedi Temple of course, but compared to a typical master and padawan suite like the one they'd shared it was enormous.

Obi-Wan laughed. "Not all of it is mine. The building is divided into many smaller apartments - I just live in one of them."

"Oh." The rooms Obi-Wan led him into were indeed much smaller than he'd expected given the outside. Maybe the size of a master-padawan suite. Probably a little bigger, Anakin guessed, giving the place a cursory probing in the Force. Several other presences lingered distinctly around the apartment, so Obi-Wan wasn't totally alone, but over everything Obi-Wan's presence was discernible in a clear, warm imprint. "Very home-like," he decided.

That earned him a raised eyebrow. "I need to set all this stuff down." Obi-Wan gestured at his satchel and the beat-up box he'd carried in from his speeder. "I'll just be a minute, and then I'll make you some tea, shall I? Or caff, if that's to your taste?" His voice floated back to Anakin as he disappeared into a back room.

"Don't worry about it, I'll make the tea!" Anakin called back, gravitating to the kitchen.

It was tiny, but Anakin had to smile at its meticulous cleanliness. He found the jar of tea leaves with ease, since it was out on the counter already, and everything else with only slightly less ease. Apparently, even if Obi-Wan didn't remember their quarters in the Temple, he had still kept all the organizational habits he always had.

He'd forgotten how _warm_ Obi-Wan was. Master Ki-Adi's Force presence was always calm and cool, like a breeze that makes you shiver and clears your thoughts. In Anakin's memories, he had always thought of Obi-Wan as calm too, but Obi-Wan felt more like a banked fire that warmed your frozen hands and face and kept away the yawning dark. Maybe he still wasn't remembering Obi-Wan fully, since he hadn't been able to really sense Obi-Wan even once yet. His imprint was all over in this apartment, so why was Obi-Wan himself practically Force-opaque?

Anakin frowned down at his two mugs of tea. Something was missing.

"Obi-Wan, do you have any distilled Altunna nectar?"

"No! I have mu'nillan, though," Obi-Wan called. "Why?"

"Just trust me! Where is it?"

"Third cupboard on the bottom!"

Obi-Wan emerged from the back just as Anakin was putting the nectar bottle away again. He'd shed his coat and over-tunic and wore a short-sleeved shirt instead; Anakin suspected it was a beat-up work shirt, judging by the streaks of what looked like faded grease stains and the comfortable way it clung to him. Anakin stared at him, knowing it was rude, he couldn't feel him in the Force and he couldn't help it.

He seemed thinner than Anakin remembered, on the edge of too thin, but Anakin couldn't be totally positive. It had only been a little more than a year since he'd last seen Obi-Wan, and he was terrified at how much he'd forgotten to remember. The memories of Obi-Wan he did have he had treasured so carefully he'd worn them thin and calcified. Now, being able to stand in front of his master - see him alive and whole, and making a face at how long Anakin had stared without saying anything - almost brought him to astonished tears.

Narrowing his eyes at Anakin, Obi-Wan asked, "Do I even want to know what horrible things you've been doing to the tea?"

Blinking, Anakin shook his head. "Just _trust_ me, Obi-Wan. If this isn't the best tea you've ever tasted, you can kick me out of the house right now." He handed one of the mugs across to Obi-Wan, and then thought of something. "Is it okay that I call you Obi-Wan? I mean - should I not? Is it weird? Because I can see how it might be weird, if-"

"It's fine."

"So, if you didn't remember your name, what do you go by around here?"

Cupping his hands around the warm mug, Obi-Wan said, "I go by Alpha. It was the only thing I remembered, from before. I knew it meant something important, but I couldn't remember why." He was looking at Anakin again in that same way, curious and even, like he _wanted_ something but didn't know what.

Alpha. The clone to which Anakin had given that name had died with Obi-Wan in the blast from the same fallen AT-TE tank. And yet, apparently he had not. With everything that time had faded for him, Anakin could still see that explosion in his mind's eye, feel the stunned horror of it in the pit of his stomach. What had _happened_? He wanted to ask, but he suspected there was a high chance his throat wouldn't quite cooperate if he tried.

Besides, Obi-Wan was finally taking a sip of his tea, and Anakin didn't want to interrupt this. He watched carefully over the rim of his own mug.

When Obi-Wan looked up again, his eyes were wide.

"How is it?"

Slowly, Obi-Wan said, "It's _amazing_."

Anakin beamed from ear to ear.

"What's the secret? You put mu'nillan nectar in it? That sounds _bizarre_ , but this tastes incredible."

"It's your favorite," Anakin explained. "I don't much care for it myself, but I perfected the formula because it's useful as hells when I need to wheedle you."

Obi-Wan's expression looked as though his brain was playing the word _wheedle_ on a looping track in increasingly disdainful tones, but his only answer was to take another drink. They didn't say anything more for a moment, sipping their tea in a comfortable silence that fell between them as easily as ever. _Easier_ than ever, Anakin thought, remembering the tumultuous last few months of his apprenticeship.

"Why would I forget that?" asked Obi-Wan finally, frowning as the thought occurred to him. "Why would I remember how to make tea in general, but forget my favorite way to doctor it?"

Anakin shrugged. " _I_ don't know. Why would you forget your name, but remember which cupboard you like to put all the pots and pans in? That's a question for the healers." The way Obi-Wan snorted softly at that made Anakin narrow his eyes. "You _have_ been to the healers?" Of course he shouldn't have assumed that his stubborn master would go to the healers voluntarily, even for something as significant as _total retrograde amnesia_.

"I don't know why you're giving me that look. _Yes_ , I've been to the healers."

"So what did they..." Anakin trailed off as Obi-Wan turned to set his tea down. As he stretched out his arm, Anakin reached out and caught it. " _Master,"_ he breathed, tracing the silvery lines of scarring up Obi-Wan's arm with two fingertips. There were three of them, even and precise, starting at what looked like a burn-mark in the middle of his palm, stretching the whole length of his arm, and disappearing under his shirt. These couldn't have come from the explosion; they were far too exact - almost surgical.

Anakin's breath caught as he followed even further, past Obi-Wan's shirt and up the line of his neck. Obi-Wan was very still under his hands, allowing Anakin to find the places under his chin where darker scars showed old puncture wounds, and the thin lines that traced both sides of his jaw up until they disappeared under his hair. It was like the outline of something - something that had dug in all around Obi-Wan's face...

"A mask," Anakin said absently, and Obi-Wan flinched.

Suddenly, Anakin realized how tightly his left hand was gripping Obi-Wan's wrist - how his durasteel hand was cupping Obi-Wan's cheek. He jerked back, almost recoiling, holding his hands up in front of him. "Sorry- I'm sorry-"

"It's fine," said Obi-Wan for the second time. He contemplatively thumbed the line of fang-shaped scars under his chin. "There was... a mask."

Clearly, thinking about it wasn't very pleasant. "Can... can I ask what happened?"

Obi-Wan was looking at him that way again, like there was something he wanted but didn't know how to ask for. After a minute, he asked, "How exactly do we know each other?"

So that was a no, then. "We work together." That explanation was almost comical in its insufficiency. "Live together. I don't know. It's hard to explain."

He wracked his brain for something more complete to say. _You raised me? We spent everyday together? We fought together? When I was little, you used to let me sleep with you when I had nightmares?_ How could he explain the all-encompassing knot of need and conflict and history and, well, _attachment_ that bound him to Obi-Wan?

Obi-Wan was frowning at him, and Anakin desperately wished he could reach for his master in the Force to feel what he was thinking.

"Are we friends?"

Blinding relief, as Anakin suddenly discovered the one word he'd been missing. "Family."

Obi-Wan's frown faded, leaving behind something softer that Anakin didn't quite recognize. At last, he said slowly, "There was this... planet. Outer Rim planet - I don't know it's name, but it's the first thing I remember. There was a prison, and a mask, and... more." He turned his palms over, letting Anakin see the circular burn scars in the middle of each one. "I don't know why. I don't even know who did it to me. I just got out - stole a ship, and ran. Of course, I didn't know where I was running _to_."

 _Ventress_ , Anakin thought. He'd been captured, and all the time they'd just assumed he'd been killed. Where had Anakin been at the time? On Coruscant, going through the excruciating process of reassignment? Newly knighted, feeling utterly isolated? Christophsis, in over his head with a brand-new padawan and desperate to scrape a victory out of complete disaster? How long had Obi-Wan been held?

"I made it this far before I had a slight physical complication that prevented me from getting any further."

Anakin had to bite the inside of his cheek. "That means you collapsed."

A slight one-shouldered shrug was the only acknowledgement of that. "So I ended up forcibly seeing the healers for quite a while. Apparently, I was somehow infected with muscle maggots." Obi-Wan's voice was dry and matter-of-fact, but Anakin shuddered.

" _Somehow,_ " Anakin repeated incredulously. He had his fists clenched so tightly that his fingernails bit into his palms. The way Obi-Wan told it was plain and unadorned, but Anakin had been by his master's side through enough horrors that he didn't need any extra detail. Obi-Wan had been alone in the galaxy, confused and tortured and stripped of even his identity. He'd run and run and run until he physically couldn't anymore and the wasting weakness of Ventress's torture had stopped him in his tracks. He'd been _alone_ , and where was Anakin?

"I'm sorry," he said, tight with anger and misery. "Obi-Wan, I'm so _sorry_."

"Anakin." Obi-Wan said his name easily, said his name like he'd always said it, and if Obi-Wan told him 'It's fine' one more time, Anakin was going to scream. "It wasn't your fault. You didn't know," he said, like he knew what he was talking about. Like Anakin was the one being ridiculous.

"I should have -" The words choked off.

He should have known. He'd been so wrapped up in himself, in his own journey, his own grief - that he hadn't even thought to wonder if perhaps Obi-Wan could have survived. He'd seen his master overcome so much, he should have known to look deeper than a single exploding tank.

But that was his own failure, and his guilt was his own. He didn't need to burden Obi-Wan with it too, especially when Obi-Wan didn't remember him.

"Anakin." Obi-Wan reached out to him, touched his shoulder just gently, and Anakin gritted his teeth with the effort of not reaching back. And then - " _Anakin,"_ he said again, in his chiding, _who are you trying to fool, my padawan_ , tone. The year that separated Anakin from the lost, orphaned padawan he'd used to be melted away, and resistance was kriffing useless.

Anakin clutched at Obi-Wan, wrapping his master up in an embrace about half as tightly as he wanted to. He held him carefully, meaning to pull back after the quickest of squeezes, but Obi-Wan was returning the hug, arms tight around Anakin's back. There was no way Anakin was going to pull away, no way he could have. These were the arms that had held him as a terrified little boy, the hands that had covered his own, teaching him to hold a lightsaber for the first time, the body whose wounds he'd carefully tended countless times.

 _Home-like_ , Anakin had said. His earlier words came back to him as he huffed a watery laugh into Obi-Wan's hair. Right again, Skywalker.

"I should have looked," he said, hiding his face against Obi-Wan's neck. He didn't know how he would have done it, but he knew he should have. "I _missed_ you."

"I think I missed you too," Obi-Wan whispered back.

Wordlessly, Anakin tightened his hold briefly before stepping back a little. Obi-Wan's hands rested on his shoulders, though, keeping him from going very far. "You don't remember me," Anakin pointed out with a slightly wobbly smile.

"No, not specifically." Obi-Wan's gaze was serious, eyes searching Anakin's face slowly. Anakin held his breath as one of Obi-Wan's hands stole up to brush a lock of hair off his forehead, tucking it behind his ear. "But I know that your face makes me happy. Like the answer to a question I didn't know to ask." Obi-Wan was _looking_ at him that way again, thoughtfully letting the short curl behind Anakin's right ear slip between his thumb and forefinger.

Anakin had to close his eyes, squeezing them tightly shut against the irresistible prickling of tears.


	5. The Subjective Meaning of Always

"Kark," Anakin muttered, pressing the heel of his hand against one eye. The other hand landed on Obi-Wan's shoulder, as if to anchor himself as he scrubbed at his face. "I'm doing my best not to make this weird for you, but you know you're not helping much," he said, voice unsteady.

"Sorry." Obi-Wan smiled at him.

Anakin laughed. "You don't sound very sorry." As he pulled his hand back, meaning to actually step away this time, he noticed something. Anakin ran his thumb over a smooth place where something synthetic and hard was set at the juncture between Obi-Wan's neck and shoulder. "What's that?"

"An implant." Obi-Wan tugged at the neck of his shirt a little, tilting his neck to show Anakin the small square of plastoid embedded at the base of his neck.

"No kidding." Anakin rolled his eyes. "Neural? What's it do?"

"It keeps me alive."

That was as surprising to hear as it was unpleasant. Anakin finally took his hand back, crossing his arms. "You're not... dying?" he asked, mind racing immediately to the implants chronically or terminally ill beings were often fitted with, to help them manage the pain.

Obi-Wan shook his head. "Nothing like that. It just helps me with some effects of nerve damage. Numbness, trouble with fine motor movements..."

"Seizures?" Anakin guessed.

Obi-Wan shrugged. "Occasionally."

Another hot wash of anger with Asajj Ventress's name on it burned through Anakin, but something else prompted him, and wouldn't quite let him give himself totally over to it. Opening himself to the Force showed him little - only a nonspecific thread of _significance_ wound through the conversation. Pressing again on Obi-Wan's shields yielded nothing, as it had before. Anakin tried one more time, this time pressing much harder and watching carefully for a reaction.

Obi-Wan didn't seem to notice anything, and the Force was still whispering at Anakin.

"Would you let me to look at it?"

"Why?"

"I have some skill with healing," said Anakin. "And... I'd like to make sure, you know, that you're all right. If you'd let me."

Obi-Wan frowned at him, quizzical, as if wondering why this particular subject made Anakin hesitant. "The healers at the clinic looked it over when I first came to them, and they found no problem with it."

"You mean the healers didn't give it to you?"

"No, I've always had it."

 _Always_ , he said, as if that were a very long time. Anakin paused, trying to think before he spoke, his wariness ratcheted up to extreme levels. If the healers hadn't given Obi-Wan the implant to regulate the aftereffects of Ventress's torture... if he'd had the implant before he was ever treated... then who had given it to him? Obi-Wan didn't seem worried by the obviously occurring question, though, and that in and of itself was a little concerning.

Following the thread of his buzzing suspicion, Anakin tried, "Maybe it has something to do with your memory."

"It doesn't."

He sounded so sure. How could he be so sure? Anakin bit down on the thousand challenging things he could have said, and instead simply asked, "Please?"

Obi-Wan just stared at Anakin for a minute. Then he huffed, shrugged a little and said, "Well, I suppose, in the interests of due diligence... You really must tell me more of what I've forgotten, though. Here I am talking so much, and I'm the one who doesn't know anything."

If there was a criticism in that somewhere, Anakin supposed it was deserved. "Of course," he said, making his way to the living room. He sat down, choosing the rug instead of the available sofa, and crossed his legs beneath him before offering Obi-Wan an inviting hand. Giving Anakin a curious look, Obi-Wan nevertheless allowed himself to be guided down into a sitting position on the floor across from Anakin.

"I'll tell you what I can, but... are you sure you want it all back?"

The question was one that had occurred to Anakin the minute he stepped inside this well-tended little home. As strange as it seemed to ask, Anakin could feel the warm imprints of several other beings who'd been here recently, talked here, laughed here. He thought of his own tiny quarters back aboard the _Resolute_ , and he wondered.

Obi-Wan snorted softly as he tilted his neck again for Anakin's inquiring hand. "Of course. What kind of a question is that?"

"I don't know." Anakin traced the indented print of the implant again with his fingers, and then let his hand hover just above Obi-Wan's skin as he gently probed it with the Force. "You don't seem... unhappy."

"Nor might a spider-roach, having no concept of a life larger than its own."

Anakin's mouth flattened into a thin line. "You're not a _roach_ , Master. And I was just asking."

Obi-Wan sighed. "Tell me why you call me that. You're not a slave."

Busy following the paths of the implant's electronic pulses in the Force, Anakin only spared a slight smirk for the irony. "No, I'm not."

"You're military." Obi-Wan hooked a finger under Anakin's plastoid armor chest plate. "Am I military?"

"In a way. We fought in the war together, but not as regular officers in the Republic Military. We're assigned to the GAR, as part of a temporary special commission."

 _We're Jedi_ , Anakin could have said. He didn't.

The implant was strange; it was definitely neural, but he sensed a constant stream of input to Obi-Wan's brain and nervous system. Anakin was no expert, but the volume and direction of its activity seemed inconsistent with how Obi-Wan had described it as a counterbalance to occasional flare-ups of symptoms from his torture.

"So," insisted Obi-Wan, "why do you call me that? Is it a rank?"

Anakin grinned. "Yes, it's a rank. I was your apprentice, before you 'died'." He pulled back his hand to form false quotes around the word, and then rested his palms on his knees. "You were my master - taught me everything I know."

Another chance to explain, to say, _Have you heard of the Jedi Order?_

Anakin didn't know why he didn't want to - it wasn't as if it was a secret. Everyone in the galaxy knew that the Jedi were commanding the Republic's side of the war, commanding the clones who made up the bulk of the GAR. He was plainly dressed in his active duty robes, chest and shoulders decked out in plastoid armor, lightsaber at his belt. Anyone who'd seen some holonet coverage of the war in the last year and had a pulse would have instantly marked him as a Jedi. Unless Obi-Wan had forgotten everything about the political structure of the galaxy, too, Anakin couldn't think of any way he could still be in the dark about it.

And yet... for some reason his instincts warned against explicitly spelling it out to Obi-Wan himself.

"Oh." Obi-Wan was looking at him, reaching up to rub at the implant absently. "Then we've known each other a long time."

"A very long time." Anakin smiled, and Obi-Wan's answering smile was strangely shy. "I'd like to bring back an OEI mapper and take another look at that thing, if you don't mind," he said. "I really think it might be important for your memory, and if there's any possibility it's related-"

Obi-Wan was shaking his head. "You're mistaken. I told you, it's just for nerve damage."

"Still, if there's any chance of it having something to do with the amnesia, even if it's incidental, I have to explore it. You said you wanted your memory back."

"Of course I do. But Anakin, you know as well as I do that retrograde amnesia, if it doesn't naturally fade over time, is usually permanent and irreversible. It's been over a year, and I can't remember a single thing from before." Obi-Wan's earnest gaze was as familiar to Anakin as his own lightsaber - it was the same even, calm way Obi-Wan had always delivered hard news he knew Anakin didn't want to hear. "I really don't think this is going to help."

Reaching into the Force, Anakin couldn't agree with his master's pessimism. "If it doesn't, we can deal with that. I'm not losing you again, Obi-Wan, no matter what - I don't care if you never remember a thing. But if there's even a chance, it makes no sense not to make sure."

Another sigh lifted Obi-Wan's shoulders gently before curving them down in a slight slump. "If you insist. Just don't remove it without asking first. I need that thing."

"If you even _think_ I would do that, you shouldn't be letting me anywhere near you." Anakin bridled, insulted. "I mean - we technically just met. I might be lying to you about everything, and you wouldn't even know."

"I know you wouldn't do that, Anakin." Obi-Wan rolled his eyes.

"Then why did you say it? You shouldn't let strange men you don't trust into your house, much less let them fiddle with your important medical equipment. There are plenty of people who know you and also hate you, you know. You should be more careful."

"Oh, are there? Am I such a disagreeable person, that I have scores of enemies?"

Anakin snorted. "No, I think that would be me, actually. I make the enemies - you just suffer the consequences."

The pained tone had crept into Anakin's last sentence without his consent, and he ducked his head. Obi-Wan softened, catching Anakin's gaze pointedly. "I trust you, Anakin."

"You have no reason to."

"Yes I do," said Obi-Wan, sounding as if he really knew. "I just can't remember it."

Anakin huffed a reluctant laugh, digging his hand through his hair roughly. Would Obi-Wan feel that way when he got his memories back? Anakin had been with him on Jabiim - been with him months before that in sullen silence, and been with him years before that in disrespect and rebellion. He had failed Obi-Wan, not just on Jabiim, but before that as a padawan.

"Also, your comm is beeping," Obi-Wan pointed out.

"Kaaaark." He'd set it on silent mode. Anakin fumbled it out of his belt and clicked it on. "Skywalker."

"Skywalker, Captain Rex informs me that you have not reported in after apprehending Consular Reeve. What is your status?"

"Reporting for duty, Master Plo." _Sithspit_ , Anakin thought. "I thought I had found another lead in the market, but it turned out to be... not relevant to the mission."

"In that case, return to the Rotunda. Consular Reeve has been most helpful, and it would be wise to act on his information as soon as possible."

"Yes, Master. Skywalker out." Obi-Wan watched him with raised eyebrows as he clicked off his comm. "Sithspit."

"You have to go."

"I do," Anakin admitted. "But... I'll come back tonight? If I can, I mean. I'll bring the OEI scanner, and I can tell you more, then. If you want."

They stood up, and Obi-Wan was giving him that hesitant smile again. "I would like that."

"I'll definitely come, then. I don't know what time, but..."

"It's fine. I have to head to the clinic for a few hours, but anytime after dark I should be here."

"Okay. Good." Anakin was nodding. He knew he should be moving for the door, but couldn't quite look away from Obi-Wan's face just yet. "You'll be here? I mean - you won't-" He knew they'd had this conversation before, but-

"I won't disappear." Obi-Wan touched his arm again, like he wanted to do something more but wasn't sure how. "I"ll be here, Anakin. I promise."


	6. Contingency Planning

Obi-Wan's promise turned out to be a broken one.

Anakin reported for duty and discovered that his duty was to search several sets of coordinates provided by Councilor Reeve for Separatist communication outposts and informants. Most were on-planet, but two weren't, though they were nearby in the same system. It was a pretty basic mop-up job, but Ahsoka was champing at the bit to tackle the assignment after being left out of the manhunt earlier that day.

"Where have you been, Master?" she asked, less to actually hear the answer than to express her displeasure at his absence.

Anakin's flippant answer of "shopping," was treated with the respect it deserved.

They knocked over four Separatist outposts in record time. For once in his life, Anakin didn't have much time for banter or showmanship. While his body was occupied capturing prisoners and confiscating Sep equipment, his mind was on a little apartment on the outskirts of the city.

"What do you think, Master? This guy's going to do fine in GAR detention, right?" Ahsoka joked, threatening a particularly sullen-looking prisoner with magnacuffs.

"Is it too much to ask for some focus here, Padawan?" he asked for probably the eighth time that day. Taking the cuffs from Ahsoka, Anakin clipped them on their latest prisoner himself. He ordered them back to the Rotunda, ignoring Ahsoka's subdued silence and distance in the Force.

It had been fully dark for over two hours by the time they reported back, and they still hadn't even been off-planet yet. Anakin waged a war within himself, submitting his distraction and longing to the demands of his duty with a feat of sheer strength greater than it would have taken him to overpower a legion of physical opponents. Reporting to Master Plo, he expected to immediately turn around and take the fighter squadron out above the planet. Instead, he was granted a surprise reprieve. He almost couldn't contain his relief, but managed to say "yes, sir" to Master Plo, rather than leap two stories into the air and punch the ceiling like he wanted to.

He'd already made it back to the hallway outside their temporarily assigned quarters when Ahsoka caught up with him. "Are we heading out to the other bases, Master?"

He'd stripped out of his armor, OEI scanner secured in a pouch on his belt, and changed into the full array of dark-brown-and-black multilayered Jedi robes that he often didn't bother with while in the field on active duty. She paused to frown at him, confusion flickering in the Force.

"Nope. Master Plo pushed it back until tomorrow. There's a chance we'll catch more if we give them time to get worried - send someone to investigate their planetary people's radio silence," he said. "You're dismissed, until the alert tomorrow morning. I'm heading out. May or may not be back tonight. Try not to have too much fun without me." Anakin caught at her padawan beads, giving the strand a quick tug.

"Master..."

He hesitated, finally turning to fully face her. "Ahsoka?"

"I - did I do something wrong?" She squared her shoulders, looking up at him with a wince.

"What? No, not that I know of."

"I know you were disappointed in me out there-"

"Snips..." Anakin rocked back on his heels, biting his lip. He'd assumed Ahsoka was irritated at his preoccupation and lack of patience; apparently her silence had been something else. "I wasn't disappointed in you, believe me. Look, I shouldn't have snapped at you. Your performance was solid, and I wouldn't have been irritated under any other circumstances, I'm sorry. I'm just... a little distracted, right now. I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

Ahsoka nodded and ducked her head, her relief a quick rush in the Force. "Can I ask what's going on? Unless you're actually out shopping, then I don't care."

Anakin laughed. "You'll find out soon enough, Snips."

"I can promise to exercise discretion!"

"Can you? How about some _patience_ , instead?" said Anakin, feeling like Obi-Wan as he raised his eyebrows.

"Yes, Master," Ahsoka sighed.

"'Night, Snips."

Anakin probably broke a few traffic regulations on his way through the city, but that was because he was mostly feeling his way back to Obi-Wan's house on instinct and had to make some last-minute course corrections. When he finally arrived, he slid his speeder bike to idle in front of the building and glared at the spot where Obi-Wan's speeder should have been. It was empty, and a quick check in the Force revealed that it had been empty for hours. So much for 'I promise.'

Though he couldn't deny that finding Obi-Wan absent lodged a knot of unease in his gut, Anakin knew his master, and he'd be lying if he said he hadn't half-expected this. Thank the Force for contingency planning, he thought. What could have been something to full-on panic about was instead something temporarily anxiety-inducing.

Led by the guiding hand of his contingency planning to a long, low building several miles away, Anakin strongly suspected that this was "the clinic" Obi-Wan had spoken of. Though the streets outside were dark and mostly deserted, inside the place was warmly colored and brightly lit. It was probably some kind of free or charity clinic, based on the overwhelming atmosphere of steely determination and righteousness. Almost like walking into Padme's office, Anakin thought.

The guy at the front desk was young and half asleep, but tried to dredge up something like cheerfulness when Anakin walked in. "Hello. What can I do for you?"

"I'm looking for a man who goes by the name Alpha. Is he here, by any chance?"

"Who's asking?"

"Anakin Skywalker."

"Gimme a sec." The boy yawned.

 _Patience_ , Anakin thought wryly. It would be helpful if Obi-Wan weren't strangely suppressed in the Force somehow. He wasn't used to having to rely on technology and a sleepy boy with a desk intercom to locate his master. As it was, he waited, hands behind his back, with a reasonable facsimile of detached composure until Obi-Wan appeared.

His heart skipped a beat. Holy kriff. Obi-Wan.

"Anakin!" Obi-Wan said, face lighting up. "Sorry, something came up and I got a little sidetracked here."

"I noticed that. No worries. Are you still busy?"

"I've finished everything I'm working on. Just waiting on Irenia, now."

Who the hells was Irenia, Anakin wondered. He didn't ask, choosing instead to follow Obi-Wan behind the desk and down a back hallway. "How did you find the place?" asked Obi-Wan, over his shoulder as he pushed open a door and led Anakin through.

"I lojacked your speeder," said Anakin absently. One wall of the room they'd entered was lined with databanks, and the corner across from them was outfitted with what looked like a universal control panel apparatus. Interesting.

"Ah." Obi-Wan was frowning to himself. "Should I be surprised? Because I don't think I am."

"Nah. What is this place? Server room?"

"And comm center, and security system hub. Soon, it'll hopefully also have an emergency vehicle response relay."

"Is this what you work on?"

"Most of the time. I noticed the clinic's automated security system was very inefficient while they were holding me here for treatment-"

"You-" Anakin took a quick look at the control panels. "You rewrote their alarm programming while you were laid up with a wasting muscle disease?"

"I didn't completely rewrite it from scratch. That would be quite beyond my skill set. I used a kernel-" He stopped, and narrowed his eyes at Anakin. "You're just making fun of me, aren't you."

"No, I'm not making fun of you," Anakin laughed. I just love you a lot, were the next words on his tongue, but even if Obi-Wan had all his memories that would be unlikely to go over well. I just can't believe I lived without you for a whole year. Still too much. Finally, Anakin settled on a feeble, "I promise."

Obi-Wan raised a skeptical eyebrow at him, and another giddy laugh bubbled its way out of Anakin's chest. How long had it been since he'd seen that expression? Oh Force.

"Don't worry, I am going to ride you about this as soon as you have the context to understand, though," he added, then sighed when Obi-Wan's face fell.

"Anakin..."

"Don't worry about it, Obi-Wan." Anakin smiled, delight filling his chest. The lift of Obi-Wan's eyebrows plus that concerned divot between them - he knew what that meant. "I promise, you don't need to be concerned that I'm setting myself up for a fall by committing to an outcome that's not certain. I'm prepared to accept whatev- whatever I'm granted."

He should have said _whatever the Force grants me_ , but for some reason felt it best not to. Obi-Wan looked faintly bemused, but Anakin just shrugged.

"What? I know you were _concerned_ about my _state of mind_. Are you tired? You look tired."

"I'm fine." Obi-Wan crossed his arms. Anakin squinted, suspicious, but in the absence of his ability to sense Obi-Wan in the Force, he couldn't contradict him with certainty. He did look tired, though. Anakin hadn't noticed as much earlier, but there were more lines under his eyes than Anakin remembered, and seeing Obi-Wan trapped without the Force, curiously self-contained and small, was still wrong.

Cheerfully, Anakin reached to pat his belt pouch. "I brought the OEI mapper."

"Well don't use it in here."

Widening his eyes, Anakin said, "Aw, too bad. I was planning on firing it up amid all this tech and completely frying its sensor because I'm an _idiot_... but if you say so..."

"Who's an idiot?"

They had left the door open, and now a tall woman in a crisply-cut medical tunic stood leaning against the doorframe. Her blonde hair was knotted securely in a braid around her head, and the look in her dark eyes was one of curiosity and concern.

"Irenia!" said Obi-Wan, smiling. "This is Anakin."

Anakin gave her a short bow and a winning smile, and Irenia came forward to shake his hand. "I'm very pleased to meet you, Anakin." She smiled, but Anakin could still sense her unwavering concern. "Alpha told me that you know him, from his previous life!"

"I do."

"That's wonderful. We thought someone or something familiar might begin to break through the amnesia, but had no idea where to start looking-" Breaking off, she shrugged and gave Obi-Wan an apologetic smile. "Were you searching for him?"

"No. I should have been, but- I- it was actually mostly chance that I happened to be in the right place at the right time." _Chance_ and _luck_ were not something Jedi believed in, as a general rule. Thinking about how easily he could have missed Obi-Wan entirely had his fugitive's flight taken a different direction that morning chilled Anakin to the bone; the certainty deep inside him that the Force had led him here, had _meant_ for him to find his master, was a grounding comfort.

"What brings you to Centares?"

"Um, business. I'm with the Republic delegation quartered at the Rotunda."

"Are you-"

"Irenia," Obi-Wan interrupted, eyes alight with humor, "if you've finished up for the night, we could adjourn to the house. Anakin has already promised to answer all our questions."

Anakin recalled making no such promise, and couldn't say he was particularly pleased with how often the words we and our were suddenly being used.

"Oh, right." She gave Obi-Wan a wry smile. "I'm done. I just need to change."

"We'll meet you in the lobby, then." Obi-Wan's hand fell easily onto Anakin's shoulder, warm and strong as he pushed Anakin to follow Irenia out the door. "And you're just going to change. Not go back into the lab," he told her sternly.

"One stop at my office, first."

"Irenia."

"Just one!"

Obi-Wan looked dubious, but at least he and Anakin made it to the lobby. The boy at the desk perked up when he saw Obi-Wan and cheerfully said, "Evening, Mr. Alpha."

"Hello, Lesk. What are you still doing here?"

"I'm here until my dad is. He and Doctor Mazaar came in at four and have been here ever since."

Leaning against the desk briefly, Obi-Wan laughed. "Oh, I am very aware of that - I was called in at the same time. If the fates are at all kind we'll be leaving soon, so hopefully you will as well."

"Yes _please_ ," said Lesk with a tired grin.

Anakin was more than used to standing quietly at his master's shoulder while Obi-Wan talked - seriously, or ingratiatingly, or casually, to any number of beings - but he wasn't used to being ignored during the process. Even now, with no Force-bond permanently tying their thoughts together, it only took a minute or two before Obi-Wan was turning and sitting back against the desk; he looked up at Anakin, loose and relaxed, and his eyes were bright and smiling.

"So, how did your business this afternoon turn out?"

"All right." Anakin tried to bite down on a grin, but only half succeeded. "Fine, for the most part, but we didn't finish everything. It'll mean a very early morning tomorrow."

"We'll try not to keep you too long tonight, then," said Obi-Wan. He was tired, Anakin knew, from the lines at the corners of his eyes and the heaviness of his limbs, but he looked... _happy_. Content.

"No worries. I don't need that much sleep," said Anakin, shrugging, only to be confronted with Obi-Wan's most unimpressed eyebrow arch. "I _don't_." Obi-Wan had no business taking him to task over this particular point, especially. Only he didn't remember all the past examples of times he'd pushed himself to the brink of exhausted collapse, so he was tragically immune to retort.

Instead, Anakin tried for disarming. "And besides, this is too important."

Success. Obi-Wan's skeptical frown faded into something softer. "Oh, very smooth," he drawled, and Anakin preened slightly.

"I learned from the best."


	7. A Crowd

Anakin couldn't have said he was entirely satisfied with how the travel arrangements turned out, once Irenia reappeared. The one inherent disadvantage of his speeder bike was that it limited him to traveling alone, while Obi-Wan's speeder could accommodate two.

When Obi-Wan had mentioned her offhand, Anakin hadn't really expected to actually meet this Irenia person, much less for her to be coming back with them to the house, as if her presence were simply assumed. He hadn't expected her to come out of the clinic with a man who turned out to be Lesk's father, and for the four of them to carry on a lively, familiar conversation about people and things he didn't know, with inside jokes he didn't understand. The other presences he'd sensed in the Force at Obi-Wan's house suddenly made more sense, and he had to wonder how many other people Obi-Wan knew here. How many other people knew Obi-Wan, and cared about him.

Once the group separated, easy farewells passing between them, they didn't have too far to go to Obi-Wan's house. That didn't make the painfully tight feeling in his chest as he watched Obi-Wan and Irenia get into a speeder together any easier to bear. She was pursing her lips to hide a smile as Obi-Wan mock-frowned in a way that meant he was clearly teasing her, and Anakin _ached_ for what he'd been missing. No, he would have had to say he was far from entirely satisfied. Luckily, no one asked him.

He breathed a little easier when they pulled up in front of the apartments, and Obi-Wan met him on the walk up, holding out his closed hand. "I've got a present for you, Anakin," he said.

"Oh?" Anakin snorted when Obi-Wan dropped a mini homing beacon into his palm. "Thanks, Master. I think I must have misplaced one of these recently."

"Yes, on the undercarriage of my speeder, I believe."

"Imagine that." The homing beacon hadn't been deactivated, but only reset into its temporary dormant mode, so apparently that was something else Obi-Wan remembered how to do. Anakin would have to get another one back onto that speeder before he left for the night; he had a feeling it might be needed.

As they entered, the lights came on automatically and seemed much brighter than they had earlier. Irenia took off her long coat and hung it over the back of one of the dining chairs. "So, Anakin, you're with the Republic's clone army, aren't you?"

That was one way to put it. "Yeah. I can't actually talk much about our operations-"

"Oh, don't worry." She waved a dismissive hand. "I just ask because, when Alpha originally told me about you, he said you were military and well, I suppose I expected someone... older?"

Anakin had heard that one before. He could tell that Irenia was dubious, but not of him personally; she was probably inwardly burning with indignation at the exploitative system he was a part of, or something like that. Anakin was almost certain it had only taken her two glances at him to decide he was a Jedi, which was fair, since he hadn't exactly taken pains to hide it.

"Not tall enough for you?" he asked, squaring his shoulders and grinning down at her. "I think I'm pretty much done growing, but I'll make an extra effort if you think it's necessary."

A pointedly arched blonde eyebrow acknowledged Anakin's deflection, and Obi-Wan was smirking slightly as he made his way toward the kitchen. "Hold on." Irenia flung out an arm to intercept him. "Where are you going? What do you want? Tea? Soup? I'll make it. You're exhausted - go sit down."

"I'm perfectly capable of pouring myself _tea_ , thank you."

"Have you eaten anything all day?" Not waiting for a response, Irenia turned to Anakin and asked, "Have _you_?"

"Uh." He'd eaten a nutribar this morning. Probably. Finding himself the recipient of two concerned frowns, Anakin sighed. "I could eat something."

"Good. Do you still have that soup from earlier this week? Of course you do," said Irenia, answering her own question and pointing them both toward the living area. She stood blocking the way to the kitchen as though she intended to guard it from attack.

"There's not _much_ left." Obi-Wan's tone was defensive. Irenia did not look impressed.

"Plenty enough for the three of us, I'll wager. Even Anakin, who's still a growing boy."

She was teasing, but concern had knocked Anakin too off-beat to respond in kind. He hadn't missed the way she was implying Obi-Wan didn't eat regularly enough. Force knew he had tended to forget things like sleep and food under normal circumstances, but without the Force and still plagued by what Ventress had done to him... Obi-Wan couldn't afford to be as careless with himself.

"Go. I'll warm some up for us."

Obi-Wan yawned, moving toward the sofa. " _Do_ refrain from attempting to actually cook anything, for our guest's sake if nothing else."

Being classified as Obi-Wan's "guest" was probably Anakin's least favorite thing to happen in the last thirty seconds, but he ignored the way his stomach dropped. The shadow of a worried frown still etched between his eyebrows, Anakin found Irenia watching him watch Obi-Wan. Her mouth smiled, but Anakin could feel her guarded determination lacing the Force. Irenia's eyes measured him, and he was sure she'd let him know decisively as soon as she came to some sort of conclusion.

He stared back, trying not to hate the fact that he needed her good opinion.

When Obi-Wan sat down, she turned to the kitchen and said over her shoulder, "You should have more faith in me, Alpha. Remember, I kept you alive."

Obi-Wan hummed affirmatively. "Yes, and I'd rather avoid the poetic symmetry of returning to death's door at your hand, if it's all the same."

"You know me better than to think I would ever waste my hard work like that." Her voice floated back to them, and Obi-Wan smiled, rolling his eyes.

"Have a seat, Anakin."

"You sure?"

Anakin flipped open the pouch on his belt, lifted the OEI mapper, and watched Obi-Wan's face shut down. More than just Obi-Wan's aversion to medical contexts, Anakin knew even without being able to sense it that Obi-Wan viewed the scanner with real discomfort; it was there in the sudden stillness that seized his posture and in the strain around his eyes.

 _Why_ , Anakin had no idea.

Obi-Wan sighed. "Better get it over with, or you'll never stop hounding me with that thing."

With an apologetic shrug, Anakin moved to sit beside his master and unraveled the lead from the scanner. "It should only take a minute."

Obi-Wan didn't reply, didn't move when Anakin found the implant again, searching with careful fingers under his collar. He was so motionless that Anakin found himself double-checking that Obi-Wan was still breathing.

The procedure was completely non-invasive; all Anakin had to do was hook a lead from the OEI mapper to a port in the implant and press a single button. Obi-Wan shouldn't have felt a thing, but his hands still gripped tightly at the couch cushion he sat on, and his body was completely stiff.

"Does it hurt?" Anakin asked, confused. There was no way there should be any physical sensation, much less pain.

Obi-Wan shook his head. "It's fine." He didn't relax.

Without the Force, Obi-Wan couldn't feel Anakin's skepticism, but simultaneously Anakin was prevented from reaching out to anchor his master. Or trying to figure out the source of his discomfort, for that matter.

With no idea where this unease was coming from, Anakin wished he could let Obi-Wan off the hook or even just postpone taking the reading until his master was less tired. Obi-Wan was right, though - better to just get it over with. And the Force... he _knew_ he needed to do this, so he just murmured, "Just another minute, Master, just a couple more seconds..."

Obi-Wan had said he would allow Anakin to do this, and he was as good as his word. The time stretched, seeming much more interminable than the few seconds Anakin watched ticking across the OEI scanner's viewscreen. The quiet noises of Irenia in the other room kept them company, Obi-Wan enduring until Anakin finally got a full electronic reading from the implant.

"Done!"

As Anakin detached the lead and began to glance through the results readout, Obi-Wan moved to actually sit back against the couch. He let out a long, quiet breath, watching Anakin evenly. "Anything interesting?"

Anakin shrugged, frowning hard at the device's viewscreen. "Don't know yet. I'm going to have to look at this in detail, and run some analyses."

"Mm," said Obi-Wan, sounding about as flatly indifferent as he would whenever Anakin ranted about the variables of the year's podracing season.

Looking up, Anakin grinned. "You _are_ tired." He'd never known the prospect of analyzing a mystery to lose Obi-Wan's interest.

"Of everyone saying that to me, absolutely."

Anakin sighed and started the scanner on a preliminary analysis of Obi-Wan's results before setting it aside. He stretched, leaning back and pulling his legs up to cross them under him. "People only tell you obvious things because you act like you don't notice them."

"Oh, is that why?" Obi-Wan yawned. "I thought it was part of your plot to badger me into an early grave."

That was something Obi-Wan had wryly accused him of thousands of times, surprising and familiar enough to pull a smile out of Anakin. The exchange felt like piloting his Delta-7 with only the stars for company - like returning to Padme's apartments at last after a long campaign. He knew Obi-Wan meant him to smile, but it twisted slightly as a new shade of meaning for his master's words occurred to him.

"Been there, done that."

 _You'll be the death of me_ , Obi-Wan had always teased. Anakin never thought it was funny.

"Don't start doing that again. We've been over this," said Obi-Wan firmly, looking Anakin in the eye and leaving him blinking in surprise.

"Over what?" asked Irenia, emerging from the other room precariously balancing three small bowls.

Obi-Wan was still frowning. "About Anakin's strange misconception that what happened to me is somehow his fault."

"Well that would have been nice to know before I bothered to make him soup."

"You _made_ the soup?" Obi-Wan accepted the bowl handed to him with such extreme suspicion that Anakin had to wonder what Irenia had done. Had she used a baked good to poison an entire wing of clinic patients?

Irenia rolled her eyes. "Don't give yourself a seizure, I _warmed up_ the soup. Though it's still certainly more effort than I would have gone to for the being who tortured you."

She handed Anakin a bowl as an afterthought, and he took it silently. The conversation had traveled several parsecs away from any point at which he'd understood what was going on. Should he be defending himself? Apologizing?

He chose neither, instead taking a sip of the soup. It was warm and smooth with a bright, tangy flavor that surprised him. Very quickly, Anakin's body began to remind him that his diet had consisted mainly of nutribars and mess food for months.

"So it's not poisoned, then?" inquired Obi-Wan.

"No, it's good." Illustratively, Anakin took a much larger swallow. " _Really_ good."

Irenia's smile rested on Anakin for a moment, before turning to Obi-Wan. "There goes your last excuse."

Anakin could see Obi-Wan, who was never out of excuses, think of a litany of further ones instantly. Probably _perhaps it's a slow-acting poison, before ingesting any I should wait to see if Anakin drops dead in the next 24 hours_. But that would have been too much, outstripping the joke and drawing attention to what Anakin was beginning to suspect was Obi-Wan's very real desire to avoid eating. "Mm," was all he said.

Irenia raised a significant eyebrow and then sat back, pointedly turning sideways to sit against the armrest so that she could see both of them. She made herself comfortable like it was easy, and Anakin watched Obi-Wan lift his chin slightly in response to whatever she'd silently communicated.

At that moment, Anakin would have given his other arm to demolish the strange wall that kept Obi-Wan locked up tight in the Force. It was intolerable to sit here, inches from his master, and have no more idea what he was thinking than this random woman. Probably even less of an idea, honestly.

When she looked at him, Anakin tried to quickly exchange the scowl on his face for something more neutral.

"So, Anakin," she said pleasantly, "how was Alpha's torture your fault?"

"It _wasn't_ ," Obi-Wan insisted.

"Really? How would _you_ know?" Irenia was blunt, but not unkind. "Just because he has a pretty face doesn't mean anything, Alpha."

"That's _not_ what I said."

Before he could find out how Obi-Wan had described him, Anakin interrupted, "No, she's right, Obi-Wan. You don't know me, and it _was_ partially my fault. We were on this, uh, long campaign. Months." He shook his head. The less said about Jabiim, the better. "I was supposed to be watching your back, but I didn't do my job like I should have. Of course, there were a lot of things going on, but I think it was at least a little because we, well. We were angry at each other, and you'd said some things I didn't like."

Anakin couldn't look Obi-Wan in the eyes. He wanted to skip over this, pretend it hadn't happened that way, and he could have - neither of them knew. But part of Anakin had been waiting to say _sorry_ since the day he'd lost his master, had thought he'd have to keep waiting forever, and he wanted so much to finally be honest, even if Obi-Wan couldn't fully understand.

"I think maybe I thought, 'Well, he can take care of himself,' even though I should have _known_... Obi-Wan, I'm so sorry."

"Shh, look at me," said Obi-Wan. He had moved closer, leg and side against Anakin's, solid and alive and exasperated. When Anakin didn't respond, a warm, rough hand came up to grip his jaw and turn him to face his master. "I'm going to tell you once and for all that it isn't your fault, and I don't blame you. Now, I don't want to hear any more about this. Can we move on?"

Anakin had to smile at Obi-Wan's stern tone, even as he blinked moisture out of his eyes. Pulling Obi-Wan's hand away from his face, he laughingly said, "Yes, Master."

He only thought about the words when his eyes dropped to Irenia, over Obi-Wan's shoulder. Her expression was guarded, but her wide eyes betrayed the kind of shock that falls like a thunderclap from empty skies. Their eyes locked, and Anakin suddenly realized what he'd said.

Sith. Had she not realized Obi-Wan was a Jedi?

She'd long since pegged _him_ as a Jedi, he was pretty sure - had she not assumed Obi-Wan was the same? Maybe it was just the surprise of having it confirmed? Wary, fearful that he'd broken something fragile and irrevocable, Anakin suddenly didn't want to release Obi-Wan's hand as his master turned to look at Irenia.

Of course, Anakin did.

All Obi-Wan said was, "I _told_ you. Basic survivor's guilt. He didn't have anything to do with it." He sounded actually a little irritated.

Part of Anakin wanted to spend a little more time dwelling on why, exactly, Obi-Wan was so adamant about Anakin's blamelessness. He certainly had no objective proof, beyond Anakin's dubious charm and the fact that Anakin hadn't tried to kill him yet. It seemed out of character for Obi-Wan to make such an unshakable snap judgment based on so little, and Anakin very much wanted it to be evidence that maybe something in Obi-Wan's subconscious _did_ recognize him - at least as no threat. He hoped Obi-Wan's conscious self would share the same opinion.

The rest of Anakin, though, was too busy being impressed by how quickly Irenia recovered from her shock.

"Do you know who _did_ have something to do with it?" she asked, clearly having a bone to pick with that nameless individual. "Medically, I had never seen anything like it."

"I told him," said Obi-Wan.

Anakin was somewhat doubtful that he'd been given the whole story and, from the look she gave him, so was Irenia. It didn't matter, though; he didn't need to hear every detail. Anakin was pretty sure he'd seen enough to be able to read between the lines.

Irenia shook her head. "I just mean to say... I know the galaxy can be a dark place, especially now, but I just can't _imagine_ what kind of creature would do that to another living being."

Anakin blinked at her. "I can."

Expectant, Irenia shifted forward. Anakin looked at Obi-Wan.

"I have wondered... why," he admitted.

Of course. Anakin could imagine the confusion that would have plagued him, waking up with no memories, and grievously injured in an obviously deliberate way. Obi-Wan would have wondered if he had done something to deserve it.

"There's this... woman."

That hadn't come out right. Irenia laughed out loud, and Anakin could feel his ears getting hot. Hopefully his hair hid if they were turning red.

"Of course," said Irenia, still grinning, and Obi-Wan sighed. He crossed his arms and rolled his eyes and generally acted as if he was oppressed by both of their existences, but Anakin could tell he was glad to see Irenia distracted from dwelling on his ordeal. Anakin was, frankly, an expert at discerning Obi-Wan's fake frowns from his real ones.

"No, I mean, we're at war," he tried again. "Ventress. She's the enemy."

"A Separatist?"

Anakin watched Obi-Wan, but all he saw in his master's expression was abstract interest. "An assassin. She works for their leadership, but couldn't give a kriff about their ideals."

He still ran into Ventress, and far too frequently for his taste. So far he'd managed to avoid scuppering vital missions and stranding entire battalions of troops in favor of chasing and dismembering her like she deserved, but it had been a near thing a few times. Especially whenever she taunted Anakin about how she'd killed Obi-Wan right under his nose, killed him and left his body broken in the Jabiim mud, which was, oh, _always_.

"She was there, during the battle. We knew she was there - I knew she was there - and she had always been gunning specifically for you. That's part of why I should have known there was more to what happened. Ventress would never be _satisfied_ with just killing you."

Mindful of the moratorium Obi-Wan had placed on discussion of culpability, Anakin let some of his disgust leak into his tone. He was talking about Ventress, not himself. This whole time she had _known_ that Obi-Wan didn't die in the explosion; she'd probably enjoyed taunting him about what he thought was his master's fate, laughing because the reality was so much worse. Did she think Obi-Wan was dead, now? That he'd escaped, only to die of the torture she'd inflicted, alone and not even knowing his own name?

Kriffing hell, Anakin wanted to kill her.


	8. Story of My Life

"Sorry," Anakin said, aware that the last thing he'd said was disturbing. Probably shouldn't talk so casually about torture and murder in a nice little house like this, with hot soup in a bowl in his lap and two people who didn't understand. He scrubbed a hand over his face. "It's not— I'm sorry."

Obi-Wan was frowning at him thoughtfully. "It's all right. It's like hearing a story about someone else."

Irenia didn't think it was all right. She was upset, worried, afraid, and bleeding it all out into the Force. But Obi-Wan showed no sign of being able to sense anything from anyone, and she was keeping a straight enough face. There was just a little concerned divot between Irenia's eyebrows as she leaned on the back of the couch, chin resting on her arm.

Anakin looked at her, thinking twelve different things at once, none very cheerful. Then he smiled at Obi-Wan, and gave a watery laugh. "I've got lots of stories, Master. I haven't asked you yet — which ones do you want to hear?"

"Let me think about it for a moment." It only took Obi-Wan a few seconds before he asked, "I would like to know, what does 'Alpha' mean? I'm aware it's a primary alphanumeric character in an antiquated language family, but—"

"I know what you mean." Anakin grinned.

His internal Obi-Wan voice was nowhere near as surprising, nowhere near as ridiculous as his actual master. _I'm aware it's a primary alphanumeric character in an antiquated language family._ You honestly couldn't make this stuff up. His grin faded when he thought about the actual question.

"Alpha was a soldier, your second-in-command." Technically, _Anakin_ had been Obi-Wan's second-in-command but he had preferred to think of his and Obi-Wan's commissions as two entirely separate, yet partnered chains of command. "We all thought he died with you, but I guess it's possible he was captured with you, instead," said Anakin, only realizing the truth of his words as he said them. "If Ventress took you both, it makes sense that his name would be one of the only things you remember."

Only Obi-Wan would know, really, what had happened to Alpha, and he certainly couldn't tell them. Not yet, anyway. If the clone commando had been captured with Obi-Wan, though, and Obi-Wan had escaped and Alpha hadn't... There were only a few conclusions Anakin could come to. Ventress would never have bothered to keep a clone alive all this time.

Obi-Wan nodded, but his frown only deepened.

Experimentally, Anakin reached for him in the Force, comfort and question. The same wall pushed him back, like trying to get a solid foothold on sheer, smooth durasteel. Anakin grappled for a second, trying to find any crack, any awareness that he might be able to slip through.

Nothing. Not even a single fissure.

Just like before, Obi-Wan didn't seem to notice anything at all, even though Anakin had practically plastered himself all over Obi-Wan's shields — if they were shields. If it was _shielding_ keeping him from Obi-Wan's Force presence, it was unlike any Obi-Wan had used against him before, even during their worst fights. There was no way in, except by battering them down and, while Anakin might be able to do it, it would be an act of incredible psychic violence.

Stymied, Anakin was reduced to asking. "What's that face for, Master? If you have another question—"

"Hm? Oh, no, it's just — frustrating. I feel like somewhat of an impostor. Like all this... doesn't belong to me. I wish I could..." That look, longing and confusion mixed, shadowed Obi-Wan's expression again.

"You're still the same person even if you don't remember," said Anakin, blunt because he didn't know how to be any other way. An awkward shuffle — he had to put his empty soup bowl down on the floor, get Obi-Wan's still-full one out of the way — and he moved sideways, his knee pressing against Obi-Wan's leg. "Here, look."

Anakin fit his hands to his master's neck and shoulder, easy and familiar. The scars left by Ventress stood out against his skin, but those were not Anakin's goal. Tracing down to Obi-Wan's collarbone, Anakin was momentarily dumbstruck by the reality of it: Obi-Wan, warm under his hand, watching him with curious gray eyes. Maybe it was Obi-Wan's shaved face, or that he wore only one layer instead of full Jedi robes, the way he had used to to, coming back from training when Anakin was brand-new at the Temple, but, for a second, memories of being small and cold all the time and wanting more than anything for his new master to like him overpowered the present reality.

Then, Obi-Wan's hand came up to cover Anakin's own, pressing gently and then holding his wrist. "Anakin?"

"You have a scar here." Anakin ran his thumb over an irregularly-shaped ridge of scar tissue just under Obi-Wan's collarbone. It was long, but the wound had been shallow — a little frightening because of the blood, but not something either of them had had time to worry about in the heat of the moment. By the time they had a minute to spare, it had already scabbed over. "Do you know where you got it?"

"No," said Obi-Wan. "Should I assume that you do?"

Wryness pressed at the corner of Anakin's mouth, and he took his hand back. "Ragoon-6."

"The Core World wilderness preserve?" Obi-Wan's gaze shifted, faraway in thought. "Temperate climate, populated by the native Ragoon species, offworld travelers forbidden except for the Aeton and—" Wincing suddenly, Obi-Wan brought a hand to his head. "Ah—"

"You remember it?" Delighted shock lanced through Anakin, followed quickly by concern. "Are you okay, Master?"

Irenia moved, freeing herself of her own bowl and reaching out. She tried to touch Obi-Wan, but he shrugged her off. "Do we need to stop?"

"I'm fine," said Obi-Wan, snapping a little more than Anakin thought the situation warranted. "Just a headache."

"Let me know if you start feeling any symptoms."

Symptoms of what? Anakin wondered, but Obi-Wan's body language insistently discouraged inquiry. He stayed quiet, and scooted back so that Obi-Wan wouldn't feel crowded on all sides. The amount of physical proximity Obi-Wan had been allowing thus far was extraordinary, but he didn't trust it to continue when his master was irritated.

"Of course."

Irenia gave him a hard look. "Alpha."

"I'm _fine_. Anyway," Obi-Wan turned back to Anakin, clearly wanting to leave the current topic behind, "I thought Ragoon-6 was a Legacy world, and doesn't allow tourists."

"It is. Like you said, travel is restricted to people from Aaeton and — us." Anakin blinked a little bit. He had been going to say "and the Jedi," and it occurred to him that perhaps that was what _Obi-Wan_ had been about to say, before pain in his head brought him up short. "How do you know that? Do you remember?"

"No. I don't remember Ragoon-6, but I must have learned about it somewhere. I can recall climate analysis, and I feel like there was some issue with the health of the native population. But I have no memories of what it's _like_ there, or of being there myself."

"We were there for a while. You wanted us to do some training there, but of course it didn't last a day before turning into a disaster."

"Why do I get the feeling I'm being blamed for this," said Obi-Wan.

"Well, the trip _was_ your idea. Even if the bounty hunters weren't."

"Bounty hunters?" Irenia was clearly hoping someone would reassure her Anakin was telling some sort of joke. She was too smart, though, to have much real expectation of that.

"A few of them turned out to be nicer than they seemed." Anakin gave her the only consolation he could. "But before we knew that, Obi-Wan caught some flak from one of their slugthrowers."

At that, Irenia's entire face expressed her contempt. "Barbaric weapon."

The bounty hunters probably would have used blasters, but they weren't foolish enough to shoot at Jedi with something that could be reflected with a lightsaber. Anakin nodded, shrugging. "It was only a ricochet, though. Healed too fast for there to be any use putting bacta on it when we finally got back to Coruscant."

Obi-Wan listened with bright interest, head slightly tilted and a thoughtful crease between his eyebrows. In the past, Anakin had been used to knowing the pattern of his master's thoughts almost as instinctively as his own. Even without directly accessing their bond in the Force, Obi-Wan had never been inscrutable to Anakin. His opinions and feelings had been often difficult to understand, sure, but difficult to discern? Very rarely.

It caught in Anakin's gut and rankled that now all he could see was Obi-Wan's fixed attention, and that same half-hidden, inexpressible wanting. He couldn't tell if Obi-Wan was pleased, puzzled, uncomfortable... He had hoped to see if Obi-Wan had any associations connected with Coruscant, but, when Anakin mentioned it, the planet's name flew by like all his other words. He could see no change in Obi-Wan's expression.

"Is that why I have so many scars? Because I've been injured in places too remote to be treated immediately?"

Obi-Wan's slight glance to the side as he asked made Anakin wonder whether it was Irenia's question or Obi-Wan's. She certainly seemed interested, arching a pointed eyebrow at Obi-Wan like they had some private disagreement on the topic. Biting the inside of his cheek sharply, Anakin gathered up his jealous, possessive irritation and envisioned jettisoning out the airlock of his mind.

"Partially. During an active mission we often can't access immediate medical care beyond what we carry in our packs, and usually minor injuries aren't high on the priority list," said Anakin dryly. "There's plenty of time for wounds that would heal flawlessly with one smear of bacta to scab over and leave marks, instead."

"Is that what happened to your hand?" Irenia matched Anakin's pert tone perfectly. Yep, she was definitely the one with the acklay in this fight.

Anakin hadn't even been aware either of them had noticed his prosthetic, and suddenly felt particularly aware of its weight. He fought to avoid looking at it, or instinctively moving it out of view. "Yeah," he snarked. "Limbs can be reattached sometimes, but not on useless Outer Rim rock heaps, and not after too much time has passed."

 _And not when the wound is cauterized_ , Anakin didn't add.

Irenia didn't seem pacified. It was obvious that she thought he had something to hide. Anakin held her gaze, but knew that what she needed was a full explanation, and he still shied away from giving one. Barreling past the sharp warning in the Force when he strayed too close to explicitly bringing up the Jedi went against Anakin's every instinct.

Obi-Wan gave Anakin a knowing look. "Irenia has been half convinced that my former life involved all kinds of horrendous neglect and deprivation because 'no one receiving reasonable medical care would end up with this many untreated injuries'."

That made some sense, Anakin guessed, especially considering the condition Obi-Wan had been in when Irenia had first met him. It would be hard to not extrapolate the damage Ventress had inflicted back onto the rest of Obi-Wan's life and sure, Anakin had to admit they did get injured and captured pretty frequently. The Halls of Healing were always able to put them back together again afterward, excepting only the relatively minor marks that were sometimes left behind.

"Hazards of the job," said Anakin. "But hey, let's be fair. We have the most advanced and well-equipped medical facility in the Republic. Any _neglect_ you experienced is probably because you're literally the worst patient in the history of sentient life."

"That's a rather harsh accusation to make when I can't even defend myself."

Humor underlined all Obi-Wan's words, and Anakin grinned. "You can pretend ignorance, but if you redesigned your clinic's security system or whatever while they were trying to treat you, then I know you know what I mean, Obi-Wan."

"I was perfectly cooperative—"

"Irenia knows what I mean," observed Anakin.

She did. Her expression hadn't softened, but Anakin could see the fondness in her eyes. Who knows what travails she had gone through trying to heal Obi-Wan — trying to get him to sit still long enough to heal — but it was clear she would do it all over again in a minute.

"Let's see if this sounds familiar. 'For pity's sake, _Anakin_ , it's hardly serious — practically healed already! I'll go to the healers' when I need to. Stop pestering me!'" Anakin delivered a flawless imitation of Obi-Wan's aggravated voice.

Obi-Wan's only defense was a scathing eye roll, because he couldn't exactly deny it. Even if he had tried, it probably wouldn't have flown very far, given the smile Irenia was poorly hiding behind her hand.

"There's the possibility I was right," he tried.

"Don't even," said Irenia, and Anakin scoffed in agreement.

"You know that divot in your thigh?"

"Here?" Obi-Wan jabbed two fingers into the side of his left thigh. Anakin could tell by the way Irenia's eyes tracked there too that she was also familiar with the scar in question. He took a deep breath, and let it out again.

"Yeah. It was pretty deep. Knife." Anakin made an illustrative stabbing gesture. "Well, you treated it yourself and then actually wanted to leave again for another mission without getting it sealed by the healers."

"And I suppose you rescued me from my own folly?"

"No." He'd tried — but no. "You were in charge, not me. We went. Of course, by the time we got back your leg was almost totally useless and Master Che had no choice but to strap you to a bed in the healers' ward." Shaking his head, Anakin found that his words stuck in his throat. Watching his master carefully, without actually letting on that he was watching, to make sure Obi-Wan turned out to be as "fine" as he always claimed — it felt like such a long time ago. Memories from another universe. "That's why it's strange to see you at the clinic, when in the past you'd have probably performed your own amputation before actually going to the healers voluntarily."

"I don't mind," said Obi-Wan, "as long as they're not doing anything to _me_."

"Right." Anakin laughed. "I guess you did always make _me_ go to the healers. Even when I tried your 'I'll be good as new after a hot shower and some rest' line, there was no mercy."

"Of course not. My problems are my own affair, but if you were in my care—"

"No, they're not! Force's sake, Master, your problems are my affair too. How many times do I have to remind you, the oath binds both ways?"

"What oath?" Obi-Wan asked. He was wincing again.

"The — It's a promise I made you. I'm sorry. Don't worry about it." Anakin slumped, allowing a thin sigh to escape him. Rehashing such an old point of contention, he had almost forgotten he wasn't talking to an Obi-Wan who remembered all those disputes. "We've had this conversation before. Several times." It had always involved yelling.

 _You've made a commitment to the Jedi Order — a commitment not easily broken —_

Squinting so narrowly his eyes nearly closed, Obi-Wan pressed the heel of his hand to the back of his neck, almost at the base of his skull. Anakin could sense the sharp pitch of Irenia's alarm as it rose, but before he could feel any of his own, Obi-Wan said, "Protect."

Just one word, and pried loose like it had taken blood and sweat, but several seconds' silence passed before Anakin could close his slack mouth. "Yes," he said, once he had rediscovered words. His pulse was suddenly racing. "That's part of the oath—"

"What — ? There's more..."

The oath Anakin had been taught as a nine-year-old to swear to the Council, the Order, and the Jedi Code, was a little long; he didn't really remember all of it. The promises made between padawan and master were short, and Anakin remembered every syllable.

"I will seek," he said, feeling something old and wounded inside him ache.

Obi-Wan's gaze was fixed on him now, a pained crease etched into his forehead, and it was easy to imagine Obi-Wan the way he had looked standing in front of the Council years ago, at the beginning of everything. Qui-Gon dead and Padme gone, feeling like a trapped animal, Anakin had repeated the words he was told to say. At the time, he had had little more idea what the oaths actually meant than if they had been in an unknown language, but he had looked at Obi-Wan's grave face and weighted shoulders and felt as if they must be something very terrible.

"That's what you say." Obi-Wan stared at Anakin like the sheer force of his attention could reveal every mystery. "Isn't it?"

"Yes, that's my part."

"What do—" Obi-Wan flinched slightly, but shook it off. "What do I say?"

Hesitating, Anakin took in Obi-Wan's posture, tense as if braced to ward off a blow. He wasn't holding his head anymore, but his hands were white knuckled where he dug them into the cushion. When Anakin looked past Obi-Wan to Irenia, the warning in her eyes was like a slap in the face. The Force swirled, a wary oscillation that only Anakin could feel. He met Obi-Wan's eyes, and swallowed.

"You say, 'I will guide.'"

"I will guide. Yes," repeated Obi-Wan. He sucked in a breath, squeezing his eyes shut briefly. Struggle was visible in the stubborn set of his mouth and the hunch of his shoulders, but one second connected to the next and, even though Anakin waited on a knife's edge, the world did not end. Squinting at Anakin, Obi-Wan said, "I will protect."

Anakin's heart soared right through the ceiling. "I will strive."

The smile he earned in response was too wan and brief for Anakin's liking. "There's more?"

"Do you — Do you remember?"

"I know... there was a room — It was cold—" Obi-Wan hissed, frustrated or in pain or both. "I know it's there... It's there, but I can't reach it."

"Master, maybe you shouldn't push—"

"No! No, I know there's more. Tell me." Tension still lined Obi-Wan's face. He moved, purpose uncertain, but he might have been reaching out, so Anakin took his hand and held it tight anyway. "Anakin—"

His name pushed out through gritted teeth. Was it a question or a plea? Either way, the answer was the same.

"Yes, Master. I'm here."

"Tell me. Please. I need—" Every word came with difficulty, Obi-Wan almost hunched over with the effort. Irenia's fear sang in painful dissonance with the resonance of the Force. Gripping his master's hand, Anakin had a very bad feeling about this. But, Obi-Wan had asked — Anakin didn't know if he could bear to refuse.

The Force burned with the warning to tread carefully. But Obi-Wan had said _please_.

Decision made, Anakin dropped the words into place like each one was a hammer blow. "Master, apprentice, the Force. All are one."

Obi-Wan had gone white. His eyes had fallen closed, but still fluttered as though seeing invisible visions behind his eyelids.

"Anakin, move." Irenia was standing, gesturing urgently. Anakin hadn't even noticed her get up.

"Master?"

No answer. A heartbeat of stillness filled the room. Then, the tight-strung tension cracked in half and spilled chaos. Obi-Wan tore his hand out of Anakin's grip. The violence was baffling, contextless, and there was no chance to understand. Anakin was bodily hauled out of his seat.

"Anakin! _Move_!" Irenia shouted in his ear.

He moved. Staggered, stumbled, whatever — until he could get his feet back under him and catch his bearings enough to shrug Irenia's too-tight grip off his arm. She pushed him, illustrative and sharp, hands flat against his shoulders, before commanding, "Stay here."

Confronted suddenly with unexpected aggression, Anakin brimmed with adrenaline. His senses sharpened and he channeled the power of the Force like a lightning rod, an instant reaction honed by war. But there was nothing to fight. Irenia was gone, moving across the room, her attention laser focused and none of it on him.

On the couch, Obi-Wan seized.

Once, in the slave quarters of Gardulla the Hutt's Tatooine palace, Anakin had seen a man in the later stages of brainrot plague. They had carried him in still thrashing, and left him. He had died that day, but not before spending hours in agony.

Anakin remembered the floor, hard-packed rock and always covered with a fine layer of sand no matter how often you brushed it off. He remembered the terror, crouched in the corner as far away as he could be while the man suffered through seizure after seizure. He had seemed curiously false in the midst of his convulsions, like a child's doll or a toy in the hand of a cruel youngling, rather than a person. A rictus of pain twisted his limbs into grotesque contortions, stiff and shaking, and he was helpless as the rot destroyed his nervous system.

Anakin had barricaded himself against the nearly palpable misery and anguish that seemed to suffocate the room. He didn't know whether he hated the seizures more, or the panting, vomiting pauses in between. He had known the man was dying. His light was fading — even as a toddler Anakin had seen it.

Then, just a few months ago, Grievous had unleashed a strain of the same plague on the Loedorvia System. Trillions had died the exact same death — in unrelenting pain, their own bodies beyond their control. In a matter of weeks, the rot had spread through the whole quarantined sector and killed every human who was unable to escape, including more than two legions of clones.

Anakin hadn't been there, but he had been part of the force that was hunting Grievous just before. The cyborg general had managed to shake their pursuit, and so many had paid the price. For the next several weeks, Anakin had struggled to fight back the taste of bile in the back of his throat, and the hot, stale smell of the slave quarters.

He stood frozen for a suspended, infinite moment. Eyes wide open, he saw Obi-Wan thrash, entire body shuddering uncontrollably, saw him fall to the floor, his head cracking against the ground. Irenia was there — she knelt beside Obi-Wan and, with practiced hands, pushed him onto his side. From her, Anakin could sense tired sorrow, locked away and blanketed under a thick layer of determination.

From Obi-Wan — still nothing.

The rigid violence of the upheaval that possessed Obi-Wan stunned Anakin. Seeing him thrash and contort, eyes rolled back in his head, and yet being able to feel nothing but an absolute absence in the Force — it was almost grotesque, like a tiny piece of the world had been ripped out of reality. The intrusive memory of the brainrot plague — hiding his face and wishing as hard as he could that death and its peace would finally come to that slave — warred with the instinct, hardwired after years of combat experience, to lash back against attack.

If someone were hurting Ahsoka like this, how fast would Anakin have reacted? The fight would already be over. But here, he was as helpless as Obi-Wan.

When Anakin took a few halting steps forward, Irenia lifted a hand. "Stay back," she said, still crouched between Obi-Wan and the couch.

"Is it—" Anakin didn't know what he wanted to ask.

"It happens sometimes. When he fights too hard for the past."

Irenia's expression was flat when she looked at him, and Anakin said nothing else. They both waited, staying as still as they could be, as if that might somehow help Obi-Wan. It seemed to take an age for his frenetic motion to slow and, when it did, Anakin could feel his own relief surge together with Irenia's. A muffled beep began to sound, but they both had much more important things to worry about.

Carefully, Anakin knelt down. Obi-Wan seemed unconscious, lying on his side, the seizure finally releasing its grip on him and allowing his body to lapse into tranquility. His hair in disarray and eyelashes resting against his cheeks, he might have just been sleeping. He was breathing — that was the first thing Anakin looked for.

Then, he checked his master's head. Obi-Wan had hit pretty hard against the floor, but Anakin was kind of a terrible healer when he couldn't use the Force, and he wasn't sure if he would even be able to tell if anything was wrong.

"He seems okay?" he pitched the half-question to Irenia.

"Yes," she sighed, bracing her hands on her knees. "He will be. In a minute or so he should be conscious — it'll be a little longer than that before he's really coherent."

How many times had she done this before, to know that so certainly?

"Should we, uh." Anakin's hand still rested on his master's shoulder, hesitating. Should he push him onto his back? It might be more comfortable. "Should we just leave him here?"

"I usually do," said Irenia dryly. "I would probably give him an even worse concussion, trying to carry him somewhere else."

"He has a concussion?"

Irenia smiled at him, so unexpected it made Anakin blink. "No. I don't think so. I was just—" She didn't finish, and even with the Force Anakin couldn't tell what lay behind the way she was looking at him. "If you want, you could take him to the bedroom. He'll need to rest, and he was exhausted before this anyway."

"Yeah." Anakin's hand tightened on Obi-Wan's arm, and he made a conscious effort to relax. "Let's do that. If you could show me—?"

"Of course."

Anakin had some experience carrying Obi-Wan. It wasn't exactly difficult — he could lift much heavier things for much longer time periods, with the Force — but this time he didn't have to sling his master's unconscious form into an emergency carry so that he could run, so he didn't. Sliding one arm under Obi-Wan's back and another under his knees, Anakin lifted him that way, so that his head rested on Anakin's shoulder.

With a critical eye, Irenia watched him adjust Obi-Wan slightly, until he was satisfied. Anakin was about to prompt her to lead the way to the bedroom, but she turned abruptly and frowned at the wall, the side table, the couch. "What's that?"

"What?"

"That noise."

It took a minute of focus before Anakin registered the beeping, and another before he realized its source. "Oh. That's my OEI mapper. I took a reading of Obi-Wan's implant, and I guess it's telling me that it's done with its analysis."

Irenia raised her eyebrows at him, too slowly. "Where is it?"

"Uh, I think I set it on the cushion? Maybe it fell?"

It wasn't on the floor. Irenia fished it out from between the couch cushion and seat back, and its alarm become suddenly loud and jarring. She turned it off, and nodded Anakin towards the door. "This way."

Anakin followed, silent. Even his footsteps were quiet, boots against thin carpeting, and his thoughts were all for the warm weight in his arms. He could feel Obi-Wan's shallow breaths in his chest, and rested his cheek against his master's hair. He was so thankful for the quiet, and for a short moment all the worries and what-ifs and theories and possible consequences left him alone.

After a short hallway, Irenia palmed a door open and stepped to the side. "Here."

Inside was a room, small and several of the surfaces stacked with datapads and what looked like blueprints or schematics. Anakin smiled at the neat piles, and moved to lay Obi-Wan down in the bed that took up most of the floor space. It was a familiar sort of bed, maybe the same size as one a masters' suite in the Temple might have, or possibly a little bigger, but he was happy to see it was lined with plenty of good blankets. He could sense Obi-Wan in this room, too — his focus, and the faint imprint left behind by his steady glow.

Anakin wished he could sense it from Obi-Wan himself.

He was wondering indecisively whether he should put the blankets over Obi-Wan or leave him be, when Irenia entered. She dimmed the level of the lights, which was good. Anakin should have thought of that — Obi-Wan's head was probably going to hurt.

"He's fine," said Irenia, probably noticing Anakin's hesitant posture. "He'll be awake in a minute."

She sat down on the foot of the bed, folding up cross-legged like she was comfortable there. Looking for any other furniture in the room, Anakin found none. He sat down on the edge of the mattress, careful to leave Obi-Wan plenty of space. While his attention was on his master, he was constantly conscious of Irenia's eyes on him.

Anakin finally met her gaze, and was unsurprised when she lifted the OEI device and pinned him with an expectant look. "So," she said. "This."

"What about it?"

"How did you get it?"

"The scanner?" Anakin asked. He was being deliberately obtuse, sure, but she was being deliberately vague and confusing.

"No! The reading — the reading of his implant. How did you get it?"

"Uh. I attached the leads to the corresponding ports in the implant—"

"How did you _get him to let you do that_ ," demanded Irenia, frustration sharpening her voice and narrowing her eyes.

Now Anakin was just confused. "I asked?"

"You just asked."

"Yeah," said Anakin, trying not to become angry in turn. "Basically."

"Was this earlier today, before you came to the clinic?"

"No, I took the reading while you were warming the soup."

Irenia stared at him, incredulous. A long beat of silence passed before she said, "Alpha let you?"

"...Yeah? He didn't like it. He was pretty uncomfortable about it, actually, but it's not painful or anything. It takes what, two minutes?" She was shaking her head, as if in disbelief, and Anakin asked, "What? Why are you so surprised?"

"Because we tried to scan that implant several times when he first came to us." Anakin frowned at her, but she shrugged back. "Of course we did. Examination of any medical devices a patient is already using is part of the routine full physical, and a patient like him— Of course we did."

"It didn't work?"

"He fought us. Wouldn't let us even touch it."

Anakin sat back in surprise. Obi-Wan had been uncomfortable, but nothing like that . "Why?"

"No idea." Irenia's mouth flattened into a displeased line. "Broke the nose of one of my nurses on the second day he was here. Even now, if I bring it up, he'll refuse to talk to me. All he says is, 'I need that thing.'" She copied Obi-Wan's accent, tossing her head a little. Obviously, this was some kind of a sore spot.

What did it mean, that Obi-Wan reacted violently to other people messing with the implant, but only bounced his leg nervously when Anakin did? The Force had been clear about the implant, when Anakin had been here earlier — it was connected to their path forward. Maybe Obi-Wan knew that as well, even if he was blocked off in the Force.

"Well." Anakin spread his arms, nodding at the scanner Irenia still held. "You have the data now."

"Yes," said Irenia, first frowning at the device, and then at Anakin. "Would you mind if I look at it?"

She hadn't let go of the OEI scanner since she had first picked it up, and had made no move to return it to Anakin. She had to be ravenous to know what information it held — what Obi-Wan had been so determined to protect, but was unable to explain. Even so, she had still asked.

"Please," Anakin said, fighting back a yawn even though he was anything but sleepy. "You'll probably understand it better than I would, anyway. I've only ever used that thing for magnetic fields and circuit arrays."

The only acknowledgment Anakin received was a noncommittal hum. Irenia was already wholly focused on the scanner's readout.

Anakin wanted to understand too, but he didn't feel the need to urgently and immediately pore over the results of the implant scan. He would have to figure out the truth in order to help Obi-Wan, but he didn't have to chase that truth. On some level beyond the conscious, he already knew. As he waited, Anakin matched his breathing to his master's and tried not to think about the brainrot plague, or about Jabiim.

"This isn't—" muttered Irenia, before her words faded into another concentrating frown. Absently, she bit down on the knuckle of her thumb as she studied the holographic analysis scrolling in front of her narrowed eyes. "This is odd."

That much Anakin had already been certain of. "Is it not for nerve damage?"

"The scanner doesn't know. Of course, its databanks are minimal so it's not too surprising, but it was unable to match the electronic imprint of Alpha's implant to any of its own models. That doesn't mean it's _not_ for nerve damage," she admitted. "Just that we can't confirm that it _is_. And — it has no maker tag."

She said that last part with foreboding, like the fact that an implant wasn't manufactured by one of the big pharmaceutical conglomerates that equipped their every product with an electronic signature to identify its make and model had to necessarily mean it was sinister. Anakin didn't know what he was supposed to say to that — half the life-saving medical equipment in the galaxy was generic or knockoff, anyway. Not everyone could be born on a comfortable Mid Rim trading planet.

"I should take this back to the clinic. The reading isn't ringing any bells with me, either. Doesn't seem like anything I've ever seen before, but the medical database we keep should be able to ID it."

"No," said Anakin, matter-of-fact.

Irenia raised her eyebrows in sardonic surprise, and he shrugged one shoulder at her.

"I'd be happy to transfer you a copy of the reading to analyze, but I'm going to have to head back to the Rotunda as soon as it's morning, and we have medical databases too." It was more likely that the GAR's database would include what he strongly suspected was one of Ventress's toys than that Irenia's civilian one would. "I'm taking the scanner back with me."

"I think it's already morning."

Anakin checked his comm. She was right, technically. "Briefing is at oh-three-hundred."

"Then you don't have very much time," Irenia observed, only a little bit pointed.

They exchanged a flat look. Anakin found himself thinking of two territorial nexu circling each other warily just before a fight. Briefly, Anakin wondered if vaguely terrifying blonde women were Obi-Wan's type — or if vaguely terrifying blonde women had a type, and it was Obi-Wan.

Irenia rested her chin on her hand and sighed, long and thin, like she had been holding it back for a long time. "You're a Jedi."

Anakin looked down at himself, as if only just noticing his robes. "Sweet Force, you're right."

Unamused, Irenia straightened sharply and jerked her chin at Obi-Wan. "And him?"

With a nod, Anakin confirmed what she already had to know. She wasn't surprised — she had just wanted to finally hear it. "Obi-Wan raised me. Taught me everything I know," he said. Mentally, he knew that wasn't completely true, but in the moment it _felt_ true.

"I can see that." Irenia's mouth twisted slightly at the corner, and Anakin wasn't sure what exactly she was referring to. It might have been the sarcasm, though.

The humor only lasted for a brief moment, before silence and too many crowded thoughts choked it. Irenia looked at Obi-Wan, eyes full of something Anakin couldn't name, and then back to him, clearly struggling with something. Anakin could sense her turmoil, how hard she fought to stay within the bounds of what she thought of as reasonable. But she couldn't hide her fear, and Anakin thought that, even half-hidden, he recognized the shape of it.

"I will take him away," said Anakin, "if I can."

The crawling discomfort of being too well seen, a hazard of interacting with Jedi, tightened Irenia's shoulders. "What if — he does not wish to go?"

Obi-Wan was still, except for the steady rise and fall of his chest. Anakin's gaze caught on his master's face, so strangely bare, and he looked for the permanent indent that was always between Obi-Wan's eyebrows. It was still there, but only just.

"If he remembers," Anakin said, "he will."

She wanted to challenge him — Anakin could feel it. But she didn't. She wouldn't.

Irenia only asked, almost whispering, "What if he never remembers?"

Did she really think that was a possibility worth considering? Anakin knew she didn't have the Force, but... Obi-Wan would remember. It wasn't a question. Surely she had to see that too. Before responding, though, Anakin paused.

Had he imagined—?

No. Obi-Wan's breathing had definitely changed.

"I think he's waking up."

Irenia scooted forward, touching Obi-Wan's leg just briefly. "Alpha? Can you hear me?" She kept her voice soft.

There was no answer, not right away. First, Obi-Wan's breathing pattern shifted, and then his eyelids fluttered. He came back slowly but surely, stage by stage. Sounds returned before words and, when Anakin took his hand and asked, "Master?" he was able to squeeze back and make an affirmative noise in response.

The concept of giving Obi-Wan space had fled Anakin's mind; now he was practically sitting touching him. Still mostly out of it, Obi-Wan turned his head to the side and kept his eyes squeezed shut, so Anakin restrained himself and only brushed the hair out of his master's face with careful fingers. "Just rest, Master. We'll be here when you feel like doing something else."

With an acknowledging hum, Obi-Wan found Anakin's robes and blindly pressed his forehead against them, curling up at Anakin's side. The small motion astounded Anakin, and for a moment he almost didn't dare to breathe. Then, he smiled, every inch of his heart filling with light. He wanted to be with Obi-Wan in the Force, comforting him and guiding him smoothly back to consciousness. If that wasn't possible, though, he had to admit this as a substitute was all right.

It was a long minute between when Anakin looked back at Irenia, and when she was able to drag her eyes from Obi-Wan. Silence filled the spaces between them and, for a while, they let it.

"Do you have a family name, Anakin?"

Anakin tilted his head slightly. "Skywalker."

Eyes dark as she surveyed him, Irenia pressed her lips together in something that was not quite a frown. "I hope you know what you're doing, Anakin Skywalker."

Another pause. She stared down at her hands. Then, she lifted the OEI mapper and held it out to Anakin. An impatient shake in his direction instructed him to take it, and he did. As Obi-Wan began to stir a little, Anakin quickly hid the scanner away back into his belt pouch.

Slowly pushing himself up on one elbow, Obi-Wan took Anakin by surprise. He tried to sit up, but hissed in frustration, not quite able to make it. "Whoa," Anakin said, and offered his shoulder, hooking an arm around Obi-Wan and hoisting him to sit upright.

Obi-Wan's hand stayed fisted in Anakin's robes, and he seemed content to keep his arm looped over Anakin's shoulder for support, so Anakin didn't think he needed to worry about backing off. Just to check though — "You good?"

Taking a deep breath, Obi-Wan pressed at his eyes with the heel of his free hand. "Oh," he said, more gravel than voice. He cleared his throat and tried again. "I don't think I'd say that quite yet. Maybe in a minute, once my limbs feel like they belong to me again."

Irenia smiled at him, diffusing fondness into the Force. She reached for Obi-Wan's hand, and he took and squeezed hers for a moment before letting go.

"I'm sorry."

"Oh please," said Irenia.

"For what?" asked Anakin. "You didn't do anything."

Obi-Wan tugged sharply at where he gripped Anakin's tunic — a motion Anakin remembered like a lost limb, even though it had been more than a year since he'd had his padawan braid. "You both just delivered a lecture on how _careless_ I am, didn't you? Don't pass up this golden chance to say 'I told you so,' or I'll be disappointed."

Anakin, for one, didn't feel like it.

"Pace yourself, listen to your body, consequences, chronic illness, blah blah blah," said Irenia, rolling her eyes. Apparently she didn't feel like it either. "I'm sure you can fill in the rest."

Sharp and real, Obi-Wan laughed. "At least it was worth it." He looked at Anakin, eyes still crinkled with pleasure. "I remembered something."

"I'm pretty sure you'll remember a lot more. I think I've got an idea of what might be suppressing your memory."

"Oh?" Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying one bit of what Anakin was selling.

That was all right, though. Anakin would trust the Force for his master, until Obi-Wan could do it for himself again. He nodded. "I have to leave pretty soon, Master. Get back to my men. But I'll come back tomorrow — today — whatever—" He waved a dismissive hand at the vagaries of the time system that called it morning already. "I'll come back later, and I should have more information by then. I'll find you here? Or at the clinic?"

"Yes, one or the other."

Again, Anakin got the impression that Obi-Wan was just humoring him, letting him chase after ghosts so he wouldn't upset himself. When he looked at Irenia, for once Anakin knew they were on the exact same page. An identical note of exasperation passed between them in a glance.

"Trust me, Master." Anakin turned his brightest, brashest grin on Obi-Wan. "I'm going to fix this."

Obi-Wan laughed, but his gaze was soft. "Your delusions of grandeur are somehow oddly comforting." After a minute, he added, "I'm glad you're here, Anakin."

"Me too, Master."

"What will you do?" asked Irenia. "At the Rotunda?"

"Can't say." Anakin shrugged, shoulders rolling under the warm weight of Obi-Wan's arm. He actually didn't know the details about the off-planet Separatist comm center they were supposed to be busting, so he couldn't say even if he wanted to.

"Well, whatever it is, be careful," Obi-Wan warned. "I just learned that I swore an oath to protect you, after all."

Now it was Anakin's turn to laugh. That was really not the accepted interpretation of the apprenticeship oath. Obi-Wan didn't need to know that, though, he supposed. At least, not yet.


	9. A Tale of Two Missions

Before he left, Anakin bugged Obi-Wan's speeder again. It was really a mediocre machine, he thought, dissatisfied that nobody was looking out to make sure Obi-Wan got quality vehicles. Then, he had to laugh at himself.

Right, Skywalker — because _that_ was definitely their biggest problem to date.

Obi-Wan had been nearly back to normal by the time Anakin had had to take off, but so clearly exhausted that it almost terrified Anakin more than the seizure had. Despite the trembling he couldn't quite stop in his hands and how he struggled to focus, it had been obvious he was going to refuse to do anything resembling rest while Anakin was there. So, for several reasons, Anakin had to face the inevitable and leave the tiny, self-contained world of that house behind.

Driving back through the (mostly) deserted streets, he multitasked by trying to skim through the implant reading analysis while steering his bike with the other hand. It didn't work that well since he was no expert on the human body or its processes. He didn't crash, of course, although he may have cut it slightly close once or twice — but without a kriffing translator for all of this jargon, Anakin couldn't come to any real conclusions. He could see, though, that the analysis described the implant performing many, many more functions than what he would have expected from something that just regulated occasional flare-ups from damaged nerves

It was possible that Obi-Wan had purposefully misrepresented the extent of the implant's functions... but Anakin didn't think so. He needed to get this thing evaluated as soon as possible. Somehow. In between actually carrying out whatever this mission was going to be.

When he arrived, the Rotunda hangar was deserted except for the prep crew. Anakin dropped his speeder bike in a line of similar vehicles, all kept for the use of Rotunda security staff, and made his way to the central comm room.

The elegant halls of the government building were empty, too, for which Anakin was grateful. It had become very clear over the few days they'd been here that the GAR's presence made Centares ministers far more uncomfortable than it made Centares citizens. Since the ministers and their staffs were the source of the leak that fed privileged inside information to this Separatist spy ring, it made sense, but it was still a relief to be able to walk without being assaulted on every side with furtive looks and guilty consciences. Anakin did not relish the role of inquisitor, and this had not been a particularly fun mission. He was eager to see it finished, for more than one reason.

He ran the last few paces, jogging down the steps that took him to the holotable at the center of the comm room. Master Plo Koon was already there, turning to nod at Anakin as he approached, and so was Commander Wolffe. The relevant Centares officials - Minister Hato, one of two ministers who served as co-heads of state for the planet, and Head Consular Doerne - barely acknowledged Anakin's presence, which was fine with him.

He'd arrived before Ahsoka, which was really all he cared about.

"Morning, Master Plo."

"If you can call it that," rumbled Plo Koon's deep voice, filtered through his rebreather. "I think it's still closer to the time at which people on this planet go to sleep than the time they awaken."

At this point, Anakin's concept of time was more than a little warped. He was pretty sure he'd slept at least five hours the night before they'd landed on Centares. Was that the day before he'd found Obi-Wan? He honestly wasn't sure.

"I don't think the minister and his staff find the hour to their liking," said Anakin, and Master Plo turned slightly to survey the Centares delegation across the holotable.

Minister Hato was a tall man, intensely driven and detailed. His loyalty to his government and sense of personal responsibility had quickly made it obvious that he had nothing to do with the Separatist infiltration, but that didn't mean he was comfortable with the sudden descent of the Republic military onto his planet. The tension pouring off him was palpable in the Force, and he looked tired.

Hato's discomposure, though, was nothing to Head Consular Doerne's. She was strung so tight it was a miracle she didn't snap at the slightest touch. Practically as soon as they had landed, Anakin had pegged Doerne for the source of the leak. Her extreme defensiveness and hostility had to mean she was guilty of something, right?

Even though the culprit had turned out to be a lower-ranked consular on her staff, and Anakin had ended up chasing somebody else pell-mell through the city, Doerne hadn't been mollified at all. Standing at the minister's shoulder, she had her arms crossed stiffly over her perfectly pressed uniform. Conferring with one of her staffers, she resolutely avoided even acknowledging the Jedi with as much as a glance.

"Hm," said Master Plo. "I don't think it is necessarily the _hour_ they dislike."

Anakin snorted. "Yeah, you might be right."

At first, Anakin had been ticked off by the Centares' attitude. Who, exactly, was out there every day risking their necks against the Seps so that everyone on Centares could live a relatively peaceful life, even during a galactic civil war? Who had already poured so much blood and ordinance into retaking this planet from autocratic Separatist control once? Not kriffing Head Counselor Doerne.

And they thought they had the right to be irritated, when they were the ones selling secrets! What a joke.

Now, it felt like years separated Anakin from those long-ago feelings, even though he knew it had been just days. All he could spare for the planetary ministers at the moment was a trickle of detached amusement. He was so done with this mission, these concerns about information flow and jurisdiction. The OEI reader with its collected data — the answer to Obi-Wan's mystery, the key to saving his master — burned a hole in his belt pouch.

Anakin nearly told Master Plo to start the briefing and forget waiting, but he remembered how he'd totally disregarded Ahsoka in his impatience yesterday. She wasn't late, not yet, and he didn't need to blow her off again. Instead, barely leashing his need to act, Anakin waited.

Only a few minutes later, Ahsoka and Rex appeared together. What a surprise.

"Snips! Glad you could finally make it." So maybe he'd engaged his limited patience on her behalf, but Anakin certainly wasn't above a little teasing.

Ignoring half the staircase in a quick leap, Ahsoka landed next to him and narrowed her eyes. It took Rex a couple more steps. "We went by your room to meet you, but I guess you beat us here," said Ahsoka, the lilt in her voice as innocent as it was pointed. "It's like you didn't even sleep, or something."

He'd _told_ her he might not be back last night, but he really didn't want to discuss it in front of Master Plo or the Centares delegation, and she knew it. Anakin coughed. "So, ah. Master Plo, what do you have for us?"

Master Plo's impassive gaze rested on him for a second, and then he activated the holotable with one long finger. "Nothing too taxing, Skywalker. This morning, you'll be targeting two Separatist communication relay stations in the Centares system. Using the information gained from the databanks of the four planetside outposts we discovered yesterday, we were able to triangulate their locations almost exactly."

From showing a 3D image of the planet Centares, transparent and rotating slowly on its axis, the holo display zoomed out so that the entire system could be seen. Several planets lay between Centares and the system's sun, and several more traced orbits beyond it. Two small red dots stood out, blinking slowly against the blue of the rest of the holomap.

"They're out in space?" asked Ahsoka. "Are they on ships?"

"No." Plo Koon shook his head, moving the display to shrink back down in scale, focusing on the red dots. Past Centares and the next planet further from the sun, what looked like a debris field became visible as the display magnified. "They're actually on asteroids."

"Oh." Ahsoka raised her eyebrows, facial markings arching in surprise. "That's... innovative."

"That's the Naz-7 asteroid belt, between the planets Quasqi and Nizon. There used to be an azetal gas harvesting operation out there decades ago." Doerne stepped forward, indicating the area with a sweep of her hand. "Some of the asteroids completely crumbled. It's a natural minefield now, practically - extremely hazardous area to fly anything larger than a light freighter into. But some of the asteroids are still hollowed out, with the remnants of the industrial equipment that no one cared to clean up still there. It's possible these bases were set up during the Separatist occupation of the system early in the war, and never discovered," she explained. "The asteroid field is shared space. Centares has no jurisdiction to conduct independent military action out there."

"The Republic does," said Anakin. "I'll take Red Squadron out and have those Sep bases destroyed before lunch."

"I'm counting on it, Skywalker," rumbled Master Plo, "but there's a problem you may encounter. We need at least one of these two outposts intact."

"Ah."

"Just as the planetside databanks were valuable to us, these Separatist computers may be even more so. It is vital we extract all the information possible from them and, to do that, we must send a landing team."

Anakin winced slightly. They'd have to wear enviro-suits, and breaking into a defended facility from the outside, on a low-gravity asteroid while wearing an oxygen suit extremely vulnerable to tears and punctures from something like, say, blaster fire? It didn't sound fun.

"There is no atmosphere on these asteroids, obviously. Given the high cost and very obvious electromagnetic footprint that would be left by maintaining some kind of life support system, plus the logistical inconvenience of having to transport food and other supplies - it's likely these facilities are staffed solely by droids. So I don't expect you to face too much resistance from that quarter. The problem will be the self-destruct protocols."

"Oh, come on," said Ahsoka.

"Just like the bases we knocked over yesterday," Anakin agreed, shaking his head. "Only they just had mass deletion procedures for the files on their servers. These whole asteroids will be rigged to blow."

It only made sense, especially when there was nothing there for the Seps to lose except droids. That meant they'd have to race the clock, as well, or end up as part of the debris field themselves.

"And as soon as we commence attack on one of the asteroids, the other will know about it," he realized, with dawning frustration. They were communication relays, of course they'd be in contact with each other. "They'll start the self destruct countdown simultaneously. Which means we need to do a simultaneous assault."

"I thought we only needed to capture one base, Master. Why not let the other one blow?"

No, they couldn't do that. Why? Anakin's instincts were racing ahead of his thoughts, and he scrambled to catch back up.

It was Doerne who said, "The intra-system traffic lanes. Both of these asteroids are placed near enough to the edge of the belt that the explosive destruction of one would spray all the Quasqi lanes with debris like shrapnel."

"Is there any way to shut traffic down, get everyone clear?"

"It would take hours," said Anakin grimly. "The Seps would have plenty of time to either clear out before we arrive, or blow the asteroids anyway."

Ahsoka crossed her arms. "Well, okay then. You take one and I'll take the other?"

"Looks like that's how it's gonna be, Snips. Bet I can lock mine down before you can get yours."

"Yeah, I don't know about that, Master," Ahsoka said, tone making it perfectly clear that she intended to win that bet.

Crossing his own arms in unconscious mimicry of his padawan, Anakin turned to Master Plo. "We'll still take Red Squadron. They can provide cover and subdue any unexpected resistance, while Ahsoka and I launch simultaneous assaults on the two asteroids from CR-20s. Feel like joining us, Rex?"

"Wouldn't miss it, sir."

"We expect pretty minimal defenses, so I'm hoping we can prioritize the clock and bang out two pretty quick infils — but since we don't really know what we're facing, we'll go in prepared for the worst."

Minister Hato exchanged a look with Doerne. "I don't need to remind you what a disaster this would be if one of those asteroids blows, and we haven't even warned the shipping lanes—"

"No, you don't," Anakin cut him off. "We'll get it done, Master Plo."

Master Plo nodded once. "I have no doubt. We will monitor your progress from command, and the coordinates have already been transmitted to the fleet. Transport should be prepared to receive you in the hangar, and you are cleared to depart immediately."

"Yes, Master."

Anakin was turning, gathering Ahsoka and Rex with a look and moving to leave, when Master Plo added, "May the Force be with you, Skywalker." He had clasped his hands in front of him, as inscrutable as ever, but Anakin could sense the vague ripple of what he'd learned was Master Plo's amusement. He looked at the Hato and Doerne, both extremely uncomfortable at the mention of the Force, and grinned.

"May the Force be with you."

"He didn't say may the Force be with _me_ ," Ahsoka whispered as she followed him up the stairs and back towards the Rotunda hangar.

"He already knows the Force is with you, Snips."

Ahsoka laughed, because apparently she thought Anakin was joking. Bouncing up beside him, she said, "Sooooooo. Did you find whatever you were looking for in the city?"

"Who says I was looking for something?" Briefly, Anakin thought about Rex, following them and definitely hearing all of this, but realistically the odds that he hadn't already heard everything Ahsoka knew about Anakin's shady behavior were minimal.

"You were. You were all geared up, and had that look in your eye."

Anakin scoffed. "What look?"

"The I'm-going-to-save-the-galaxy-whether-it-likes-being-saved-or-not look. So? Did you save it?"

The OEI reader in his belt pouch was a weight Anakin felt with every step he took. "No," he said. "Not yet."

"Are you going back? Cause we probably don't have that much time left on this planet. If you need any help-"

"Talk to me about your plan for the asteroid, Ahsoka." He ignored her stifled groan. "You'll have one CR-20, twenty clones, the support of Red Squadron, and about eight to ten minutes from the time they start tracking our approach. How do you bust open that base?"

"Lay down cover fire, land, and blow the entrance with thermal charges," said Ahsoka, instantly. After a second, she added, "They probably won't have much in the way of long-range defenses, right? Since the whole place is some kind of repurposed mining shaft? So, Red Squadron can cover us like I said, but we probably won't have to worry about ion cannons or force fields or anything. We'll toss in some droid poppers after we blow the doors and then take the place on foot."

"What do you think, Rex?"

"Sounds good to me, General. Although I'd like to hear more about the landing."

"What do you mean?"

Ahsoka turned around to look at Rex, walking backward beside Anakin. They were in the hangar, heading toward the LAAT/i that would take them into the atmosphere were the Resolute waited to take them the rest of the way. Walking without looking, Ahsoka might have slammed her head into the wing of any given parked starfighter, or tripped over a mouse droid, but she rode Anakin's perceptions in the Force and was able to duck and continue on like it was nothing.

"Well, we won't know where on the asteroid the entrance is, Commander," said Rex. "There are probably only going to be a few places we can land a CR-20 on an asteroid. It's possible we might use up a lot of time just getting from our landing site to the door."

"They wouldn't have made the entrance too far away from a reasonable landing site. Whoever made the facility had to land their own rigs all the time, back when they were mining gas, right?"

"Whatever they were landing probably wasn't the size of our troop carrier."

"...Ah." Ahsoka frowned hard, all her focus bent on the problem.

Putting a hand out, Anakin caught her before she tripped backwards over the ramp and into the LAAT/i.

"Morning, General!" called the clone pilot. "Commander, Captain. You ready to get out there?"

"More than, Juke!" Anakin jumped into the transport bay. When Ahsoka and Rex had climbed in, he kicked the lever to retract the ramp. "Any more prep to do?"

"No, sir. I was just waiting for you."

"All right, then take us to atmo."

"Copy that, General."

Juke settled himself in the cockpit and the bay doors slid closed. Since the LAAT/i was empty except for them, Ahsoka wasted no time in taking one of the aft seats. Usually, LAAT/i transport involved a lot more standing and hanging onto one of the overhead grab rails. As they took off, silence reigned for a brief while as the engine roar overwhelmed all other sound, but when they were in the air and cruising Ahsoka started picking Rex's brain again about the asteroid assault.

"What about the gravity," she was saying, and Rex was talking about jetpacks.

Rex was a good man, and Anakin knew he could trust both of them to look out for each other. Ahsoka was fully capable of leading her command — she was often brilliant, even — but it was still a relief to have steady, experienced Rex there to guide and check her exuberance when Anakin himself couldn't. He had his own plan for taking the asteroid base, and he wouldn't let Ahsoka head out until he was sure she had a strategy that would hold up, but it sounded like she and Rex were coming up with some pretty decent ideas.

"Oh, and there's one more thing you should check, Snips," Anakin interrupted, remembering.

"Huh? What?"

"How are your 'sabers?"

Ahsoka squinted at him. "They're fine?"

"When was the last time you checked their vacuum seal?"

"Ha! That... would probably be important," said Ahsoka, grinning. She checked over both her 'sabers, making sure they were fit for combat in the vacuum of space, and didn't have time to do much else. The short trip up to the Resolute was over in minutes and, as soon as they felt the slight grind of the LAAT/i landing in the star destroyer's hangar, it was go time.

They stepped off the transport in lockstep, the changed surroundings barely noticed, as familiar as a second skin. "I'll get the men assembled and brief them on the general details of the mission, General," said Rex. "We should be prepared for your specific orders by oh-four-hundred."

"Good, I'll see you then. And get Ordinance to make sure we have enough miniature gravity wells in working order to go around."

"Yes, sir."

"Gravity wells?" Ahsoka asked, eyes sharp with interest. "Is that part of your—"

"You just work on your own strategy, Snips," said Anakin. "I wanna hear it before the briefing, okay?"

Flicking her lekku, Ahsoka sniffed. "Sure, Master. And where are you going?"

"I have to check in with Yularen." Stopping in front of a lift, Anakin said, "I'll catch up with you back here."

Ahsoka's reply was muffled as the lift door closed, but Anakin was pretty sure it included some kind of affirmative, give or take the sass. Which was completely uncalled-for, because Anakin had been completely honest about his plans. Mostly. He did go directly to the bridge and speak to Admiral Yularen.

There wasn't all that much to say — it was a simple mission as far as most of the crew of the _Resolute_ was concerned. The admiral, used to commanding an entire fleet through chaotic space battles, barely batted an eye at moving a single star destroyer into position not even a full astronomical unit away. Since Anakin had been planetside for several days, there were some administrative matters Yularen felt he should be apprised of, but overall they were good to go. The _Resolute_ had received the coordinates of the two asteroid bases from ground command with no problem and was in uninterrupted communication with Master Plo and the rest of the Rotunda. Satisfied, Anakin gave Yularen the go-ahead to move out.

Then, he went straight to the medbay.

The _Resolute's_ medbay wasn't as enormous or as well-equipped as a medical frigate or medical station, but it was big enough to be able to deploy three fully operational Rimsoos and, at the moment, it was mostly empty. Critically injured clones had been transferred to Kaliida Shoals, and it had been long enough since their last major campaign that most of those less injured had recovered enough to no longer need twenty-four-hour medbay care. That did mean the staff had more leisure to notice Anakin's unusual presence, but the troopers were too well-trained to do anything but salute and then go back about their business.

Except for Kix. He straightened up from where he was filling his medpack with extra bacta bandages and saluted. "General! Everything all right? This is the last place I'd expect to see you, at least while you're conscious."

"I think you've got me mixed up with my Master," said Anakin, before Kix's slight frown reminded him that nobody in the 501st had ever even met Obi-Wan. "No, everything's fine, Kix. I'm just looking for the Commander. Have you seen him?"

"I think he's in his office, for once."

It actually took Anakin a minute to remember where, exactly, that office was. Maybe Kix was right about him avoiding the medbay. He eventually found it, though, and without having to stoop to asking one of the medics.

The office was a tiny room, situated with doors to both the surgery chambers and medbay command center, and more of a private command station than an administrative space. Commander Neo, chief medical officer of the 501st Legion, stood with his arms crossed facing a rapidly scrolling holo readout. "General," he said, pausing the projection as soon as he noticed Anakin's presence. "What can I do for you?"

"I won't take too much of your time, Commander, if you're in the middle of something—"

"I am at your disposal, General. I hear we're heading back into combat?"

Anakin squinted at Neo. He moved far enough into the office to allow the door to close behind him. The clone commander waited, hands behind his back, with every appearance of mechanical compliance. Neo might look as clean-cut and sterile as the medbay he ran, but Anakin could sense weariness sunk deeply into even the walls of the place.

"Yes, but it's just an incision mission. We won't even be leaving the system, and I'll do my best to make sure you won't have any new residents when we get back."

"I appreciate that, General."

The commander said nothing else. Clearly, he was still waiting to find out what had prompted Anakin's visit. Stalling, not even totally sure why he was doing it, Anakin said, "That looks like the latest field intelligence report." He nodded at the holo readout.

"Yes. It's — well." Neo sighed. "There have been instances of Separatist forces in the Outer Rim using armor-piercing slugthrowers instead of blasters."

Anakin winced.

Though relatively unusual, slugthrowers were more common on remote, less-developed worlds. He remembered seeing several examples of the damage and disfigurement they could cause on Tatooine, and he'd even been wounded by a slug once as a padawan. It was much more painful, more likely to fester and get infected, and more difficult to treat than a blaster wound. "Just what we need."

"Yes," said Neo, drawing out the word scornfully. "Given our luck, it's likely we'll face these things sooner rather than later. I'm trying to figure out how I can equip our Rimsoos to deal with this, next time we deploy them. They're already given _half_ the supplies they really need, and slug wounds are so much more complicated to deal with than blaster burns."

"Let me know if I can do anything, get anything for you." There were so many horrible ways to die on the battlefield. Anakin had lost men crushed under tanks, blown to bits by cannons, ravaged by wild animals, suffocated slowly as their life support failed. "Whatever I can do to keep this from turning into another Jabiim."

Neo raised an eyebrow at him. "Thank you. If you could somehow get Kamino to deliver on the Phase II armor they've been promising us for months..."

"Yeah." The commander was joking, the equivalent of a casual jab at government inefficiency, but Anakin cocked his head slightly. Shaak Ti was on Kamino. He could at least include a line in his next report to the Council, make some inquiries. "I don't know. I'll see what I can do."

Now Neo eyed Anakin openly, disbelief and curiosity prickling in the Force. After a minute, he seemed to decide something and crossed his arms. "I suspect that's not why you came to see me, though, General."

"No. I have, well. I have kind of a personal question." Bad choice of words. That made it sound like Anakin had some kind of a disease. "A medical question. Not related to the mission, or the war at all," he explained. "It's highly confidential. I need a second opinion, but like I said, it's unrelated to the mission, so I understand if you don't feel it's within the scope of your duties."

Shoulders straightening, Neo nodded at Anakin. "On the contrary. What's the question, sir?"

Anakin let out a long breath, exhaling both his nerves and gratitude. "I came across a neural implant recently, that seems to have some odd effects. Its supposedly for, uh, relieving symptoms of past trauma, like tremors and seizures, but I'm concerned it might be doing some other things, too."

"Can I assume this implant isn't yours, or any of the troops'?"

"Yes."

"And you think it might be doing something more harmful than nerve correction?"

"Yeah," said Anakin.

It was really, really unpleasant to think about, honestly. Because if Obi-Wan's implant wasn't what he thought, then Ventress had put it there. And if Ventress had put it there, he was carrying part of her torture around with him, and she was still tormenting him, even after he'd escaped. And if that was the case, then he needed that implant gone as soon as physically possible.

"I was able to take an organic electronic impulse read of the thing, and even I can see that its type and direction of stimulation isn't consistent with what a typical nerve correction implant would be doing. A civilian doctor was able to tell me it wasn't like anything she'd ever seen before, but that's not very informative, and I'm no expert. I was hoping you might be able to crosscheck the reading, and find out what type of implant this thing actually is."

Neo's eyebrows arched and stayed there, but he accepted the OEI scanner from Anakin and didn't ask any of the thousands of questions that must have occurred to him by now. When he pulled up the device's analysis of Obi-Wan's implant, all he did was make a thoughtful noise under his breath. Slowly, he frowned, and as he scrolled further through the information his expression only darkened.

"Yes," he said belatedly, "I'll check the database for anything similar."

Anakin waited as Neo connected the OEI scanner to the central console, replacing the slugthrower report readout with the scanner's analysis of Obi-Wan's implant. Flipping through several menu options, Neo downloaded the electronic footprint of the implant and set the system searching to compare it with those of all known implant types.

"This might take a while. But I don't think—" He stopped, crossing his arms and tightening his jaw. "Well, I'll wait to see the results of the search before I make any conclusions. Any chance you could tell me who, exactly, this piece of shady hardware belongs to?"

"No," Anakin said. "But I'm afraid that at one point, it might have belonged to Ventress."

Neo hissed softly. "Then this might not take that long after all."

What he meant by that, Anakin didn't know. He barely had time to think about asking and decide not to, before the console beeped shrilly. A rotating diagram of an implant system lit up in red against the figure of a human body in blue was thrown up on holo, and Anakin moved immediately to read what it said. He read the first paragraph and thoroughly confused himself before he realized that Neo hadn't moved at all.

"This says 'compliance augmentation'...?"

Slow with reluctance, Neo said, "Yes, General. That other doctor had probably never seen something like this before because this implant isn't _medical_."

"But you know what it is?"

"Yes. My, ah, training included preparation for a lot of things no Mid Rim civilian doctor would expect to encounter. This implant seems to fit the specs for a line of modification chips meant to... _alter_ the subject's attitude by restricting their access to certain lines of thought. Illegal within the Republic, of course, but most slave traders don't particularly care what the Republic thinks of their methods."

Anakin stepped back as if he'd been slapped. He focused on Neo's expression of grim distaste and worked to pull his thoughts out of the tailspin they were plunging into. "I don't remember—" No. "I've _heard_ of tracking chips that would detonate a slave if they strayed too far from an approved radius, but — lines of _thought_? That doesn't sound familiar."

"It's a more sophisticated technology," said Neo. "I believe it's popular with the luxury slave trade, especially among the Zygerrians. Owners find their slaves more tractable if they are blocked from thinking about a time in the past when they were free. Sometimes the implants provide mental conditioning, to train the slave to avoid thinking about certain subjects too long or too deeply."

"Like escape, or a loved one." _Or the Jedi Order._ Anakin felt gutted, like someone had reached in and scooped out his insides with a vibroblade.

"Exactly. And some models deliver physical punishment if the slave attempts to fight or defy the implant's programming."

Like a shock to the kriffing brain stem, for instance. Whoops, wrong conversation topic — here, have a seizure.

Anakin thought about the careful blankness in Obi-Wan's eyes whenever he had come close to mentioning the Jedi, about why he always had the strangest feeling that he shouldn't talk about the Force in Obi-Wan's presence. The only time he'd ignored those instincts, Obi-Wan had collapsed. Apparently, that had been the implant putting him through a painful neural storm as _punishment_.

Anakin's hands were fisted so tightly his muscles ached. Even though Neo wasn't Force-sensitive, he kept the black hurricane of fury swirling inside him locked down. Scrambling for perspective, he thought about Obi-Wan's smiles. Obi-Wan was alive, physically unhurt, probably asleep right now on the planet below. Obi-Wan was alive. He could still fix this.

"Thank you," he told Neo, trying not to push the words through gritted teeth.

Neo nodded, watching him with sympathy just disguised enough to be professional.

When Anakin felt he could do it without destroying Neo's office, he opened himself a little to the Force and tried to breathe. "I'm assuming there's a way to _remove_ these things, safely."

"The slaver who programmed the implant in the first place will have a specific electronic key to deactivate it, and then it can be removed like any other implant. Without that key, the procedure is still mechanically as simple as any implant removal, but most chips are programmed to self-protect by influencing the slave themselves to resist removal."

 _I need that thing._

"Sith hells." _Focus_ , Anakin told himself. This wasn't about his anger — this was about helping Obi-Wan. _Focus, Skywalker_. "Is— Is there anything else I should know?"

"Not off the top of my head, no, but all the information is there." Neo nodded at the holo still displaying the diagram of the implant. "Take it. The entry should tell you anything you need."

With halting movements, Anakin downloaded the file on the implant to the OEI scanner and then tucked it back into his belt. "Thank you, Commander." He should have said something about hearing duty calling, or assure Neo he'd remember about the Phase II armor, but Anakin didn't have the concentration to spare.

"Of course, General." Neo was still looking at him, wariness and concern mingled. "Let me know if there's anything else I can do for you."

Anakin nodded. "Yes — thank you — I will—" He had to move, to get out. Barely noticing Neo's salute, Anakin left the office behind him and swept through the medbay like a theta storm, heedless of anything but his own barely-leashed wrath.


	10. What I Must

Powerful strides had taken Anakin almost all the way back to the hangar by the time his mind caught up with his body. An empty lift waited in front of him, ready to drop him down into the action. He stopped, stock still.

He wasn't going to the hangar so that he could grab a ship, head immediately back to Centares, and rid Obi-Wan of that disgusting piece of hardware whether his master liked it or not. He was going to the hangar to brief his men and make sure Ahsoka was prepared for the upcoming assault. Anakin was mentally aware of these facts, but that didn't mean it was easy to accept them. His whole body was still so tense that he felt he might explode — detonate into a blast of destruction at the slightest touch.

As a padawan, this would have been the point at which Anakin got into a shouting match with Obi-Wan about _priorities_. Countless arguments blurred in his memory, but Geonosis stood out as one of the last. _We have a job to do!_ _I can't take Dooku alone — I need you!_ Obi-Wan had shouted over the roar of the ship. Anakin had wanted to scream back, _I don't care!_ How could he care about anything as abstract as strategy when someone he loved was hurt?

But Obi-Wan wasn't here now to argue with, yell at, or blame. He hadn't been for a long time. Anakin was, in fact, the highest authority on this ship. Not even Yularen outranked him, and there was certainly no one who could physically stop him from doing anything he wanted. Anakin was ruled only by himself, and the decision was his.

Pushing through the white-hot need to act, Anakin reached for the Force and searched for the reason behind the anger. He was shaking with it — but why? Obi-Wan was alive, he was fine, he would certainly survive the hours it would take Anakin to execute this mission and return to the planet. The implant wasn't going to kill him, so why could Anakin barely stand to think of it touching his master's skin for another second?

 _How dare they_ , was the beat of the outrage screaming through Anakin. How dare they — how dare she! How dare Ventress _chain_ Obi-Wan like this. How dare she take his identity, his memories from him, like they belonged to her, like _he_ belonged to her. Like Obi-Wan was her slave.

He thought about his mother. He hadn't saved her. Anakin had thought of her constantly, but told himself to wait, to be patient, that one day he would return to Tatooine when he was a Jedi Knight and the moment was right. He had been too late.

Waiting too long to do something necessary and right could be deadly.

But Obi-Wan was in no danger. He fully believed that. Nobody but Anakin knew that Obi-Wan was even alive, and he sensed no underlying threat in the Force. It would take them, what, a day at the most to carry out this mission? Obi-Wan could wait. He had waited more than a year already. He could wait another day, Anakin told himself, and his conscious brain was fully onboard.

He still seethed.

It was the _principle_. Obi-Wan should never be caged, not even for a single hour. And then, like the word _caged_ had unlocked everything, he remembered Kadavo.

A harsh breath punched out of Anakin, and he closed his eyes. _Oh_ , he thought. _Of course_.

Their mission to the Zygerrian Slave Empire had gone disastrously awry less than a month ago. Ahsoka had been kept in a cage like an animal, and their men had been put to forced labor in the mines. Meanwhile, Anakin himself had been helpless, forced to try and save their necks by wheedling and persuading the Zygerrians' conscienceless queen.

They had escaped, of course. But the rage conjured by the visual of Ahsoka in a cage did not fade. Ahsoka herself had been only a little worse for wear. Most of their time on Zygerria had been unpleasant playacting to her, and as for the cage itself — she had been in worse fixes. It was Anakin who felt unthinking blind fury on her behalf, because it was Anakin who understood what it was to truly be a slave.

Ahsoka had only ever been a Jedi. Even in elaborate costume, or suspended behind bars by slavers, she had been a Jedi in a temporarily unfortunate situation. Obi-Wan, too, had only known what it was to be a Jedi — until Ventress had chained him, using, of all things, Zygerrian slave technology.

On nights when he was too exhausted to see straight and yet still somehow couldn't sleep, Anakin would be visited by a panoply of ugly fears. One of these was the secret, cold dread that no matter what he did, no matter who he was or what he achieved, he would never be anything but a slave. This doubt, he did not want for anyone else. He loved his master, and wanted him always to be bold and arrogant and carry unconscious power like a second cloak. He loved his padawan, and wanted her always to be brash and independent and take for granted that her obedience was a choice.

Anakin forced his fists to unclench. He understood why he was angry. He was afraid that Ventress had stolen this from Obi-Wan.

Breathing deep and even, Anakin forced his body to obey him and dragged his thoughts along with it. He was going to continue to be angry. He was going to free Obi-Wan from the chip absolutely the first second he possibly could. Next time he saw Ventress, he knew what he was going to do. That was the future, he saw as clearly as if the Force had granted him a vision.

But this was the present, and Anakin was not a slave. It was early morning, he was wide awake, and he was a Jedi Knight with a job to do.

He was going down to the hangar to take care of his men, his padawan, and his mission.

The men had already assembled. Rex had chosen them, two groups of twenty, and most were at work prepping and loading their assigned CR-20 troop carrier, or double-checking their own gear. Pilots of Red Squadron and their flight crews were busy in clusters around the hangar as well, readying the ARC-170s and V-19 Torrents that would provide the mission's air support.

Anakin had spent several minutes flicking quickly through Master Plo's briefing packet. It was all the same information they had been told already, but in more detail. At first, the holos swam in front of his eyes, just a bunch of bright blue light. It took a long second for Anakin to muster the focus to understand what he was looking at. Once he did, though, things began to click into place. There was information about the asteroid belt, the communication they had detected between the on-planet Separatist spies and the asteroid outpost, and the gas-mining company that had gone belly-up more than two decades ago.

By the time the lift doors hissed open, Anakin wasn't quite _calm_ , but he was in control of his own thoughts. It was a good thing, too, because Ahsoka was attuned to him the moment he stepped out into the hangar, reacting in the Force like a flag showing the direction of the wind.

She ignored him outwardly, of course.

He made his way through the clones loading the troop carriers, on a tangential path past Ahsoka and Rex. When Ahsoka couldn't pretend not to notice him anymore, Anakin jerked his chin at her to follow him. He saw her widen her eyes expressively at Rex, but she trailed him away from most of the clones to a corner of the hangar at the moment being mostly used for storage.

"We'll be ready to deploy in twenty minutes, Master," she told Anakin. "Everything good with the admiral?"

"Huh?"

"Yularen," Ahsoka said, expression chastising him for not even trying to keep his story straight.

"Oh. Yeah. Fine. We'll be in position soon. Are you prepared?"

"Yep."

"Talk to me."

She eyed him. "Sure. How about this: I'll tell you about my great plan to bust a droid asteroid, if you'll tell me about your secret project. Deal? Deal. Okay, you go first."

Anakin didn't really smile, but the corner of his mouth might have pressed up a little. "You drive a hard bargain, but how about — no. That was actually an order, not a suggestion."

"Fine." She sighed a very fake sigh. "My squads are going in with jetpacks. We'll land the CR-20 wherever we can, and then be able to cover the rest of the distance to the door that way."

Anakin nodded. He'd guessed that was what she'd been thinking. It was both less complicated _and_ had more pizazz than his own plan, which was kind of annoying. "And once inside?"

"Once inside, first priority is to shut down the self-destruct sequence. Then clear the place of droids and any other Sep defenses."

"Easy as that, huh?"

"It's never _as easy as that_ ," said Ahsoka, parroting Anakin's tone. She had a little over a year's command experience under her belt — almost enough time, in Anakin's experience, to make it feel like you had never lived any other type of life than this one, submerged in war. Certainly enough time to learn that battle plans never survive contact with the enemy. "I can't tell you every detail. I'll have to play it by ear and trust the Force."

Anakin's mouth twisted again. He didn't want to be amused at her glibness, but couldn't quite keep a straight face. "That sounds like something I might have said once."

"Maybe," said Ahsoka, far too seriously. "I always pay close attention to your teachings, Master."

"Well in that case, here's another teaching for you, Padawan. The Force is never a nursemaid. Smart tactics and prep are what keep your men alive, and that's _your_ responsibility."

He activated his comm, displaying part of the briefing packet.

"I looked at that. Those are useless," Ahsoka said, frowning at the holo schematics of the old asteroid mining bases that Anakin was quickly moving through. "Aren't they?"

"Why do you say that?"

"Well, the records are old and terrible! The base maps aren't linked to the specific asteroid they show, so it's just a bunch of random floor plans. And we don't even have all the maps! There were over a hundred asteroids mined, and only fifteen schematics in the briefing. Maybe the plans for the asteroids we need aren't even here at all. There's no way to know."

She had done her reading, to know that. And it was true — the twenty-year-old information scavenged from the now-defunct mining operation was degraded and incomplete.

"We may not know if we have the plans for our specific asteroids, but we can still learn from what we have," said Anakin. "Say you're a Separatist—"

"I'm a Separatist," said Ahsoka.

He ignored her. "Say you're a Separatist, and you've been told to outfit an undercover communications relay. A spy station. Maybe to gather intel temporarily before they invaded Centares the first time, or maybe in a hurry while retreating after we kicked them out again. Where would _you_ rig the emergency charge?"

"I wouldn't do anything too crazy. I'm in a hurry, right?" She thought about it for a minute. "And I can't do anything too attention-grabbing, because it has to stay a secret. I'd put only as much explosive as I needed, wherever it would do the most damage."

"Yeah. You know what azetal gas is used for? Torch fuel. Welding."

"Right." Ahsoka's eyes widened slightly. "So the charges will be in the gas pits. A chain reaction. How does that help us, though?"

"Look at your schematics. Where are the gas pits?"

Activating her own comm, Ahsoka flipped through map after map of the asteroid mines. "They're everywhere," she said, disappointed. "The only ones marked are the already-emptied ones."

She kept looking, facial markings pinched in a careful frown, and Anakin waited.

"...Wait. Gas? These things are way too small to have an atmosphere."

"The gas pockets are inside the rock, completely enclosed by the asteroid," Anakin explained. "They would have to be, right? Otherwise the gas would have already dissipated. So this operation was apparently mining right up to where the readings told them the next hollow pocket would be, and then drilling a smallish hole through the rock. They would get a vacuum seal around the hole and the gas would escape right into their storage canisters."

"So all you'd have to do is slap a charge onto the wall closest to the nearest gas-filled pocket," said Ahsoka. "Great. That probably means it'll be deep into the asteroid, since all the pockets closest to the surface will be empty and already mined. Why couldn't they just put it at the entrance, like a welcome mat? That would be polite."

Anakin shrugged. "They might have. This is only really a guess — the most likely place for them to have rigged the asteroid, since it means they'd have to use the least amount of ordnance to do it. But who knows? They might have rigged the whole thing. The asteroids we're going to hit might have already been completely stripped of gas. The detonation system might be much closer to the surface, and it might be smarter to just go for that rather than the bomb itself."

"...So we play it by ear and trust the Force."

"Exactly. We're not just jumping out of ships and winging it. We're prepared — but flexible."

Ahsoka didn't look convinced. " _Sometimes_ we're jumping out of ships and winging it."

"Okay, yeah, sometimes we are. But more prep means less people die." They exchanged a look, thinking of the same thing, and Ahsoka nodded. "Let's go see if Rex is ready to move out."

"By the way, Master, you never told me _your_ plan."

"Didn't I? Huh. Weird."

"You're going to use the gravity wells to make a path the men can run to the entrance, aren't you."

"No, that would be like trying to run in a constantly fluctuating gravity field. We'd be tripping and bouncing all over the place."

Ahsoka groaned. "Then what? What's the plan?"

"You'll find out— Wait." Anakin had already covered half the distance back to where Rex waited for them, but now he stopped suddenly. "We never did the apprenticeship ceremony, did we?"

"Nah, I think we were a little busy on Christophsis." Ahsoka kept walking, but then, when Anakin didn't keep up, she slowed and looked back at him. "Why?"

Anakin was the last person to care about ritual for ritual's sake. He knew that he would guide and protect Ahsoka the same whether or not he had sworn it out loud, but... still. They had been assigned to each other, a partnership begun almost as involuntarily as his and Obi-Wan's. That wasn't right. "Do you know the oath?"

"Do I _know_ the _oath_?"

"...Yeah?"

Squinting at him, Ahsoka was clearly communicating with her face that this question ought not to have been asked, but Anakin was still confused as to why. "I was in the creche until I was _fourteen_ , Master. They don't let you even take the Initiate Trials until you know all the ceremony stuff in your sleep. I was _fourteen_ when I got out."

Her word choice made it sound like she had escaped from prison. What was the usual age to begin an apprenticeship? Anakin had always been pretty alienated from anything and everything that happened in the creche, but his best guess was ten or eleven. Younglings who grew older than that still unchosen were usually not considered to have a future in the Jedi Order. They were sent somewhere else, one of the Service Corps, normally.

Were they not doing that anymore?

"Oh," said Anakin. "Why?"

Ahsoka looked at him the way he had always looked at Obi-Wan whenever his master said something only a person raised in privilege and luxury would say. "Well, it wasn't because I'm an idiot who couldn't memorize the apprenticeship oath."

She honestly sounded defensive. Ahsoka was such an indispensable part of Anakin's life that it was weird to think about how he hadn't actually known her that long, and how much he didn't know about her life before they'd met. She was driven and ambitious and energetic — of course it would have been frustrating for her to spend so many years in the creche, old enough to be out there in the galaxy making a difference, doing the work of a Jedi, and not knowing if she would ever really get the chance.

"Ahsoka," Anakin said seriously, "I have never once believed that you are an idiot."

"There just aren't enough masters to go around," said Ahsoka, acknowledging him only with a stiff-shouldered shrug.

"Because of the war—?"

"Well yeah, now it's worse. There are barely any. But there have been less and less Jedi for a while now, even before the war. It's normal for initiates to be older and older. Plenty just never get masters at all."

It reminded Anakin of the push to knight padawans earlier that had begun during his teenage years. At the time all he could see was the fact that Ferus Olin was a candidate for knighting and he wasn't, but it was probably a consequence of the same fact: there just weren't enough Jedi. All the more reason why Ahsoka should have an apprenticeship that was real in every way, not just some ad hoc substitute.

"What is this about, anyway?"

"Huh? Nothing," Anakin said. "Just, remind me about this conversation later."

"Later as in after we take care of these asteroids, or later as in—"

"Later as in whenever we have a spare kriffing minute, Snips."

Ahsoka laughed. "So — never? Got it."

"Come on, don't be such a pessimist."

"Pessimist?" scoffed Ahsoka. "No way. I'll have you know I'm absolutely confident that I'm going to lock down my asteroid before you."

Grinning, Anakin headed for Rex. "Well, in that case, be a little _more_ of a pessimist."

In the Force, Rex twisted with impatience, keenly aware of the chrono ticking away and that the men had been ready for minutes now while his Jedi conferred. "We good, sir?" he asked when they were close enough.

"You and me are good to go. As for the intergalactic man of mystery here, who can truly say?"

Anakin rolled his eyes. "We're ready, Rex. Do we need to brief?"

"I briefed the men on the simultaneous assault. Pilots know their jobs. The ground assault squad leaders just need specifics."

"Good. We can do that on the transports. Let's load up."

"Yes, sir."

Ahsoka followed Anakin so closely she was almost stepping on his heels as he headed for the transports. "You're just trying to avoid telling me your plan, aren't you, Master?"

"I'm using the gravity wells, Ahsoka."

"Yeah, I figured _that_ much."

They stopped by the boarding ramp of the closest CR-20, and Rex said, "We loaded two aboard for you, General. Will that be enough?"

Anakin nodded. "Should be fine for what I've got in mind. Did you get the other thing too?"

"Yes, sir," said Rex, straight-faced. "The other thing is loaded and ready."

Ahsoka made a disgusted noise and crossed her arms. "Are you serious? This is so immature."

Anakin didn't bother to stifle the amusement he was leaking into the Force, but also didn't respond. To Rex he said, "Great. Enviro-suits?"

"The men are already suited up. Your suits are onboard."

"The squads?"

"Two of ten each. Fives and myself under Commander Tano. Sergeant Appo is your second."

Anakin could read between the lines that Rex had stacked Ahsoka's squads very nicely. They would be almost all veterans, while Anakin would have the new transfers and shinies they'd recently been given to replace the casualties suffered on Umbara. Only one more thing to double check. "Dogma?"

"With you, sir."

"Good." If there were going to be any problems, he wanted them to be in his troop carrier, not Ahsoka's. Shaking out his wrist comm, he said, "General Skywalker to the bridge. What's our status?"

In a moment, Yularen's voice came back to him. "General Skywalker, we are in position. Deploy when ready."

"Copy that, Admiral. Deploy."

Yularen's acknowledgement was drowned out as the bay door siren shrieked and warning lights flashed. As the massive door that separated the hangar from the blackness of space began to retract, Anakin raised his eyebrows at Ahsoka. "Anything before we go?"

Rex answered, "No, sir."

"Snips?"

"Nope," she said, lifting her chin.

"Then let's go."

Rex saluted, and Anakin watched for a minute as he and Ahsoka headed toward their own troop carrier. Had Obi-Wan ever felt the peculiar mixture of pride and anxiety that always stirred in his chest when sending Ahsoka out on her own? Most of the time, it had seemed like Obi-Wan hardly gave him a second thought, unless it was to remind him to hurry up or stop being so reckless. Something to ask, after he got Obi-Wan back.

"Sir?" A clone trooper in an enviro-suit stepped out of the carrier, helmet tucked under his arm.

"Sergeant Appo," said Anakin, leaping up beside him onto the boarding ramp. "How do we look?"

"Ready, sir. The boys are eager for a scrap."

"Good. So am I. Let's get this thing off the ground, and then we'll talk infil strategy."

Anakin headed to the cockpit of the CR-20. The pilots had their target coordinates already, as expected. Time to check comms.

"Red Squadron, check."

The pilots' comm channel was silent, no chatter since they hadn't launched yet, but a voice came back immediately. "This is Red Leader. We are go, General."

Anakin's own pilot twisted in his seat to give him a thumbs up, and the copilot leaned over to call in, "Transport One, check."

"Transport Two, check." That was Ahsoka's carrier, right on cue.

Popping the mini comm earpiece off his wrist, Anakin left it tuned to the pilots' frequency and stuck it in his ear. "All units, launch."

"Launching!"

His pilots began preflight sequence, and Red Squadron's takeoff chatter filled his earpiece. That done, it was time to get himself ready. Putting on his enviro-suit was always a pain, even though he stripped off all his outer tunics first. The clones just had versions of their usual armor that incorporated life support systems and a mini, emergency air propulsion system.

They were in the air by the time Anakin joined the men in the belly of the transport. Troop carriers like this were built to hold forty clones and a squad of speeder bikes. They were fielding half that manpower for this mission, so there was plenty of room. Anakin spotted the shadowed lumps against the back wall, where Rex had his equipment loaded, and went to stand next to Appo.

The comm built into the wrist of his enviro-suit was on default settings. Anakin keyed in the frequency they used for command communications. "Who's our second squad leader, Appo?"'

"Attie, sir." Signaling across the bay, Appo summoned the man in question and then put on his helmet.

"Sir," said Attie, jogging over.

"How goes it, Attie?"

"Just fine, sir. We were getting bored cooling our heels for so long. Good to get some action, even if it is just a quick day trip."

Anakin grinned. Half the men formed up behind him had their helmets on, all trying to look tough and nonchalant, but many of them were shinies. He could sense them, each a distinctive glow in the Force, and they weren't thinking of their first real action as a _day trip_. He knocked the gauntlet of his enviro-suit against Attie's armored shoulder illustratively, and then spoke into his wrist comm.

"Command check."

Attie hurried to put his helmet on.

"Check," said Ahsoka's voice.

"Check, sir," said Rex.

"Check," said Attie, helmeted now.

"Check," said Fives.

Appo just rapped his knuckles on the side of his helmet and gave Anakin a thumbs up.

"Command channel clear." Anakin crossed his arms. "Okay, Rex briefed you about the mission?"

"Yes, sir," Appo said. "We know it's a race against the clock. We've got ordnance disposal specialists, and Zero over there is our tech. He's brand new, but he's smart. The captain said you had a specific plan for the approach?"

"Yeah. We'll probably have to land at a distance from the base's entrance, so we've got to cover some zero-g ground fast. What we've got is an AT-RT, and a gravity well. I'm going to mount the well on the walker, and your squads will be able to make their way to the entrance easily in the walker's gravity bubble."

"We'll have to form up pretty tightly behind the AT-RT to fit everyone in the area of highest gravity," said Attie dubiously.

"Yep."

"So, that will make us sitting ducks if the outpost has any artillery. Or even a blaster cannon."

"Or one droid with a single blaster," said Appo.

"It won't be a problem. Just leave that part to me."

The clones looked at each other; Anakin didn't exactly know what the exchange meant, but he suspected that he should be offended. "The plan, sir?"

"The plan," he confirmed. "Okay... do any of our guys know anything about welding?"


	11. A Quick Day Trip

None of the men in either squad knew anything about welding.

Oh well. Anakin had thought he might as well ask.

Rex would have had some choice words for him about leaving this kind of preparation until — he checked his comm — three minutes before landing in hostile territory. Obi-Wan would have acted disapproving, but Anakin had always suspected he didn't actually care that much. He would rag Anakin incessantly after the fact, of course, but in the field Obi-Wan had always been very hands-off. "Make it happen," he would say, and then just expect Anakin to come through.

Sergeant Appo was neither Rex nor Obi-Wan, so he and Attie had to suffer in silence more or less. Most of the shinies leaked distinct flavors of dubious interest into the Force as they watched Anakin use his lightsaber to fuse a gravity well to the back of an AT-RT scout walker. Lightsaber welding was efficient, but messy. He wasn't sure he would be able to cut the gravity well off again without destroying it.

Dogma, who was going to be driving the walker per Anakin's orders, had his face set somewhere between a wince and a scowl. Appo, Attie, and the two or three other veterans just shrugged. "Looks good to me, General," said Tripwire, the senior bomb disposal expert.

"Thanks, Trip."

"Looks like it's going to go about as fast as a turtle on two legs," said Appo. "Sir."

Gravity wells ranged in size from about as small as a droideka in its rolled-up position, to as large as a small freighter. They were used mainly for salvage, attracting all the free-floating debris nearby to one place where it could be either towed away for cleanup, or sorted through for valuables. There was a theory that on a much larger scale they could be adapted for warfare too, capturing ships and even messing with hyperspace travel, but for something like that a gravity well would have to be _massive_. So far no one had been able to stabilize a big enough model to test those kinds of applications.

This was one of the smaller models, droideka-sized, and round in shape. It was domed on one side and nearly flat on the other, and Anakin had soldered the flat side to the AT-RT walker. It was a little... unbalanced looking.

"It's fine," Anakin said. "It only needs to walk as fast as you can run."

Attie cocked his head. "That's true."

A burst of chatter on the comm in Anakin's ear made him pause. He listened, then said, "Okay, Dogma, fire the walker up and see how it handles the extra load. The rest of you, get ready. We're approaching the asteroid."

"Yes, sir," Dogma said in a tone that meant, _Do I have to?_

"Do it," Appo told him. "Check your suits, boys. I don't care if you've done it four times already — do it again. There's always some idiot who gets his lungs sucked out his mouth 'cause his vacuum seal went bad."

Anakin was pretty sure that had never happened, but the shinies looked suitably motivated as they began to double-check their gear. He headed for the cockpit, listening to the pilots' comm talk in his ear and finally bounding up behind them so suddenly that they jumped.

"General! Uh— we're approaching—"

"I know. Any likely landing sites?"

The asteroid loomed large out the viewport, and its uneven surface was reflected in a three-dimensional, blue holodisplay in front of the copilot. A spot was highlighted in red, and the copilot pointed to it. "Yes, sir. This is the origin point of the transmissions we got from the relay station on-planet. Surface scans show that the entrance to the mining complex is also pretty much here."

That was a good sign. It would be great if they didn't have to go too far into the mines to find the station's databanks and communication apparatus.

"The closest landing site we can find that's big enough and flat enough to accomodate us is here," the copilot went on, lighting up another red spot on the hologram asteroid. "It's about a fourth of a mile away."

"Not bad."

"This side of the asteroid is pretty featureless, though, General," he said. "Whoever's manning that station will have us in their line of sight the entire time."

"Can you tell if they have any long range defenses?"

"Scans are inconclusive. Red Squadron could take a run at 'em, and see what they show us?"

Anakin shook his head. "No. If you do a flyover on your way to the landing site, how close could you drop me to the station?"

The copilot and pilot looked at each other, and the pilot shrugged. "Right on top of it, if you want, sir."

"Not _that_ close. Here?" Anakin pointed to a spot just beyond the station's red dot, between it and the landing site.

"Shouldn't be a problem."

"Great. Do it," he said. "Then proceed with the landing, but don't get cozy. Stand by ready for takeoff until you get the final all-clear from me."

"You got it, General."

As Anakin jumped the stairs back down to the main bay, he switched to open comms and listened to the noise coming from Ahsoka's squads. Her pilots were already making their landing approach, so all seemed to be well there, although she _was_ slightly ahead of him. That was bad for two reasons. First, the relay stations would start their self-destruct at nearly the same time so, if Ahsoka's station clocked her presence too early, Anakin's squad would start losing time while they were still in the air. Second, falling behind right away wasn't a great start to this race.

It was time to get moving.

Dogma had the overburdened scout walker gingerly mincing along the length of the troop carrier, while the other clones heckled. As he dragged the second gravity well out from where it had been stowed against the back wall, Anakin watched his progress. "Seems like it works," he said to Appo, and dropped the gravity well back onto the deck near the bay door with a heavy clang.

"Well enough," Appo agreed. "Sir, the gravity well is meant to attract things to itself, right?"

"Yep," said Anakin, and then raised his voice to call out, "Everyone strap down! We are about to depressurize!"

Personnel safety harnesses lined the walls and Attie quickly had the men strapping themselves in. The cargo straps were made for speeder bikes, not scout walkers, but Dogma and a few other clones seemed to be figuring something out. Anyway—-

"What were you saying, Appo?"

"Are we doing a jump, General?"

That hadn't been what Appo was going to say earlier, but Anakin answered the question. " _I'm_ doing a jump to a forward position. You will land as planned and make your way to meet me as fast as possible."

"Yes, sir." Appo hesitated. Checking his own enviro-suit's seal, Anakin glanced at him expectantly. "About the gravity well— Since it attracts things to itself, won't it attract _us_?"

"No," said Anakin. His suit was fine, life support systems functioning and seal airtight. Unclipping his 'saber, Anakin double-checked its vacuum seal as well. He would never live it down if he let his own 'saber malfunction through laziness after getting on Ahsoka to check hers.

When he looked up, Appo was still waiting, radiating doubt. Right.

Anakin knew the gravity well would work as he expected it to. He was no physics expert; the Jedi Temple's science curriculum was mind-numbingly thorough, but most of the time he just _knew_ how things would work, and wasn't sure how to explain it. When they had made him do classwork, half the time he was coming up with the right answer and then losing points for not being able to show his work. He didn't intend to spend an hour mathematically proving the behavior of gravity.

"Look," he said, "trust me, Appo. If this doesn't work, I'm gonna be the first to find out. If I end up stuck to the well, you have my permission to change the plan."

"Yes, sir."

The co-pilot's voice in Anakin's ear was counting down to the drop point, and an alarm suddenly shrieked, announcing imminent depressurization. "See you on the ground, Sarge," said Anakin, nodding at the safety harnesses, and Appo saluted. He strapped himself in, and Anakin scanned the bay one last time.

Everyone was good. The AT-RT was secure.

"Approaching drop," said the co-pilot. "Fifteen seconds."

He switched to open comms. Ahsoka was landing. On his gauntlet, Anakin started an eight-minute countdown, and then switched back to the pilots' channel. Time to introduce himself to the droids down below.

"—Nine, eight, seven—"

The tall, narrow bay door began to open, and all the air in the bay disappeared into the vacuum outside. The dormant gravity well at Anakin's feet was sucked against the opening. On the ground, the door would fall down to serve as a landing ramp, but for a jump it retracted up from the floor, giving Anakin just enough room to step through it and out into space.

"—Four, three, two—"

The gravity well began to float, as the ship's artificial gravity lost its grip on everything inside the bay. It bobbed, suspended on the border between the ship and open space. Anakin gripped one of the safety harnesses attached to the wall and gently kicked the gravity well out of the ship.

"— One—"

He planted his feet against the wall and pushed off, following the well into space.

The troop carrier was gone in an instant, shooting by him and away towards the landing site. For a moment, Anakin oriented himself; though there was no real up or down in space, the asteroid was a huge, unevenly-shaped mass below his feet, and he was traveling parallel to it in the same direction he had pushed off in. The heads-up display built into the helmet of his enviro-suit had been activated by his separation from the troop carrier, so he had an overlay of information coming to him from the ship's scans. The gravity well was beyond him, also still moving in the direction he had kicked it. It was already an awkward distance away.

Honestly, this was way more annoying than a regular, low atmosphere jump.

He could use his emergency air propulsion system to try to chase the gravity well down, but there wasn't a whole lot of air in that thing. It was meant to be used in emergencies, not as a jetpack. Wasting it right out of the gate would be stupid. Instead, Anakin reached out in the Force.

Though he was in space and space was nothing, he was not alone. The Force was in all things, but also between all things. Anakin could feel the bright spark of living energy in the retreating troop carrier, the subsiding disturbance it left behind in its wake, and the ponderous movement of the asteroid beneath him. It was quiet, without the usual background hum of ever-present life, but that only made things stand out more starkly.

Gripping the escaping gravity well with the Force, he slowed its movement and began to reel it back towards himself. His own constant movement was a problem too, but there was an easy way to fix that. On his gauntlet, Anakin tapped the command to remotely activate the gravity well.

Appo was right about one thing — the gravity well sure did suck Anakin toward it. But there was also something much, much more massive caught in its expanding field.

The well generated a gravity field within the range of strength most common on inhabited planets. In effect, it became the "ground" that things would fall towards. This tended to work great for salvage in space, but not so well near planets, huge ships or other things that had enough mass to interfere with the gravity field. Anakin landed on the well on hands and knees, and tried to ignore the random bits of debris that came with him, little pieces of rock and metal falling on him as if dropped from a great height.

The well was moving in relation to the asteroid, but the shift was sluggish; he couldn't tell whether they were ever going to hit the ground, or whether they were just going into orbit.

Anakin reached out for the impression the hulking mass of rock below left in the Force, and _yanked_.

The asteroid was bigger than Anakin, bigger than the gravity well so, instead of moving it — they moved. The well lurched straight towards the asteroid, picking up speed until it was dropping like a stone. Just for kicks, Anakin stood up on the well, feet toward the rapidly approaching ground, and rode it down like a rocket.

This was more like it.

Just as everything was about to end in a messy impact and debris crater, Anakin thrust hard in the Force against the asteroid, killing most of the fall's momentum and cushioning the landing. He did _not_ want to end up floating here with useless, shattered pieces of a gravity well. It still hit pretty hard, and he landed beside it in a crouch. Pulling his lightsaber, Anakin stood and surveyed his position.

In all directions, there were rocks. The terrain was pockmarked and rough, but in the distance Anakin could see the troop carrier on the ground. They had landed successfully, so that was good. Orienting himself so that their landing site was at his back, Anakin scanned what was in front of him and searched the Force. The red light of the transmission origin point blinked steadily on his HUD, overlaid on what seemed to be, in the real world, just another ridge of rock. He could see tracks from some kind of landing vehicles left in the dust, but nothing immediately jumped out as an obvious old mining facility.

Experimentally, he ignited his 'saber.

For a long moment, nothing happened and Anakin watched the wasted seconds count down on his HUD. They had guessed eight minutes, based on the self-destruct protocols of the on-planet Separatist relay stations, and other wider experience with Sep defenses, but that was still just an educated guess. They could have more time than that, or possibly much less.

Then, the Force shuddered, and Anakin moved.

A flash burst in his vision, but he had already flicked his 'saber around to reflect the blaster bolt harmlessly into the ground. Where had it come from? He heard nothing but the buzz of his comms, the eerie silence of space muffling every noise. Anakin waited, loose and relaxed, and the next attack was five shots in quick succession, seeking to overwhelm his defense. Guided by the Force's warnings, Anakin caught each bolt.

It would take a lot more than five shots to overwhelm him. But _where were they coming from_?

Two more shots, two more blaster bolts deflected, and Anakin had spotted the source. There was a blaster cannon mounted recessed into an uneven hill, in front and to the right of him; it was a heavy cannon, powerful but relatively slow to recharge after a salvo. Ideally, whatever droid was manning it would keep shooting at him, providing a lovely distraction, until the men arrived. One nice thing about droids — they were pretty limited, straightforward thinkers.

Given the location of the cannon, Anakin was able to pick out a door the exact flat gray color of the surrounding landscape set into the same hillside. The transmission point would be somewhere beyond it, inside the facility.

Over the next several seconds, Anakin played a snapfish game with the gun. Essentially, it was the most basic version of similar games played at the temple to train younglings in Force reaction, with the minor upgrade of trying to send each attack right back at the cannon. Ideally, he would disable it himself before the clones even arrived. Four more shots later, though, the gun was still operational.

Either it was pretty well shielded, or Anakin was being an uncharacteristically bad shot today. It didn't matter, luckily. He could keep this up indefinitely, so there was no real danger from the cannon regardless.

As the gun fired again Anakin tensed, but then let his 'saber drop. The shot had flown ridiculously wide. Had the droid gunner malfunctioned? Then he turned, tracking the shot, and saw the troop of clones formed up behind the scout walker, jogging in a tight formation toward his position. They had covered over half the distance already.

The gunner hadn't malfunctioned. It had chosen a different target.

A frisson of warning in the Force, and Anakin leaped into the air, flipping and catching with his blade the shot that would have flown over his head, toward his men. When he landed, Anakin adjusted his stance and breathed out evenly, narrowing his focus to that threatening hillside.

It would only take a few well-aimed shots to devastate the clone squads, as closely grouped as they were. The droid had reevaluated its strategy unusually quickly when it discovered its first approach wasn't working. Anakin could keep intercepting the shots, but there was little room for error when you were leaping fifteen feet into the air. If the shots came too close together, he'd be in trouble. He also didn't know exactly how far his gravity well's field extended; if he managed to jump completely out of it, he'd go off flying into space.

"No danger from the cannon," Anakin repeated mockingly to himself. _That_ had lasted for about two seconds.

He switched to the pilots' comm channel. "General Skywalker to Red Leader."

"Go ahead, General."

"I got a minor problem down here, Red Leader. Do you have a minute?"

"Absolutely," said Red Leader. "What can we do for you?"

"Well." On his comm, Anakin selected the coordinates of the cannon's hill marked on his HUD. "I've got this blaster cannon."

"See it. Say no more, General."

As Red Squadron synced to his command frequency, they showed up on Anakin's HUD as green dots in the corner; each one was tracked by a coordinate number that rapidly changed as the ships streaked toward his location. He listened to them as they formed up for a strafing run, and turned to clock the clones' progress. They were close, but not close enough.

While his back was turned, Anakin felt the telltale prickle of warning and leaped just as the gun fired again. Three shots this time and, spinning in a blur of light, Anakin intercepted all three. He hit the ground, ready to spring up again in a split second. Hopefully the droid would be dumb and not realize that if it began a constant barrage there was no way he could keep up. Given its already-surprising adaptability, though, that hope was too thin to be comforting.

Red Squadron was close; the scout walker and the fighters would probably arrive nearly simultaneously. In the meantime, Anakin settled into his stance. Good thing he was the official Jedi Temple distance leap record-holder.

When the walker finally clattered up beside Anakin, it was weirdly silent. Those things always made noise, but not here where there was no atmosphere.

"Appo," Anakin said with relief, positioning himself just in front of the walker. The attacks had continued to come, but as the clones approached closer to his own position the interceptions had become easier. Nothing had gotten past him yet. "Hold here for a minute. Red Squadron is about to take this gun for us."

"Yes, sir," said Appo, giving the hand signal for _freeze_ to the squads behind him. "That was some firework show over here."

"I didn't expect them to target your approach," Anakin admitted.

"We made good time anyway."

Maybe, but they only had just under five minutes left on the countdown.

Red Squadron appeared overhead, an abrupt entrance without the warning noise of their approach. Red Leader made a low pass, firing on the hillside and raining down silent bolts of bright plasma. From their uncomfortably close position, Anakin and the men could see the Separatist blaster cannon firing back, but as fighter after fighter blew overhead the destruction on the hillside became impossible to distinguish. The last few fighters followed up the strafing run with concussion missiles that impacted the ground near where the cannon had been mounted, sending up massive plumes of dust and debris that just hung there, not coming down again.

There was no time to find out whether they had been successful.

"Go!" said Anakin, leading the dash to the door with one eye on the hillside, in case the cannon had somehow survived, and one eye on the countdown. Four minutes.

Dogma followed in the scout walker with its gravity field, the walker's retarded pace still easily equal to that of a running clone trooper. When they reached the door, Tripwire stepped out from the line and rigged it with charges. It looked like the original door that the miners had installed, so two ordinary detonation packs were enough to do the job.

"Stay here, and be ready," Anakin told Dogma. "You're our only chance for a quick exit."

Dogma nodded, and the door blew.

A chaotic scuffle happened over a few seconds as two B2 battle droids met them at the entrance, and the men turned them into scrap metal. Bounding inside, Anakin overtook Appo. He sensed nothing, no living presences, but that didn't mean there weren't infinite amounts of droids waiting for them.

The main corridor continued up ahead into darkness, and two smaller passages branched off perpendicular to the main one, directly across from each other.

"The data center is here," Anakin said, pointing to the left, toward the flashing red marker on his HUD. "Appo, take your squad and go ahead. Attie, you take the data center and I'll take the other passage. We need to find the detonation charges. Eyes up, but be _fast_. Three minutes and thirty seconds."

"Yes, sir!"

Anakin moved, knowing that half of Attie's squad would follow. Once they left the immediate entrance, the gravity well's influence faded, and the corridors became a nearly zero-g environment. It was not exactly conducive to extremely fast movement; even Force-enhanced muscles were useless with nothing to push against. The corridors were helpfully narrow, though, and Anakin was able to make decent time pushing from one wall to the other in a zig-zagging motion. Most of the clones behind him were doing the same or using their emergency air propulsion systems, their helmet lights filling the passage with a wildly disorienting light show.

They should have worn jetpacks anyway, Anakin thought. Switching momentarily over to Transport Two's comm channel, he heard Ahsoka's squads still trying to deal with the blaster cannon. Not good — they were running out of time — but Anakin couldn't do anything about it at the moment.

At the end, his corridor split into two rooms. Both doors still had power, and the first one opened on what looked like long-deserted equipment storage. Several small, magnetic-rail transport carts were stacked against the back wall, and the rest of the room was full of canisters. They were probably empty canisters, but if they did happen to be full of explosive gas this might be a perfect place to rig a charge.

"Joc, search this place," Anakin said to the clone trooper floating just behind him.

"Yes, sir." Joc and five squad-members pushed into the room, looking for anything likely to blow them up.

Anakin pushed off the doorframe, crossing the passage to the second door. When it opened, he found himself staring out at the surface of the asteroid. There had once been a room here, but now there was only a hole with half-shattered rock walls, full of what no doubt would have been a suffocating amount of floating dust and debris. This, Anakin guessed, was the result of Red Squadron's bombardment. The blaster cannon and its mounting seemed to have been hit directly, since he couldn't find any recognizable trace of them. He did, however, find the gunner.

A partially dismembered tactical droid floated there, its limbs ripped off and flung away, but its photoreceptors still lit with power. "Jedi General Anakin Skywalker," it said.

"That's me." Anakin gripped the doorframe and reached out with his 'saber, slicing the droid's head in half. Nobody needed even a partially functional tactical droid running around. It made sense now, why the droid had been able to change strategies so quickly; any B2 would have wasted hours firing at him before reevaluating its threat response protocols.

Pulling back into the corridor, Anakin palmed the door shut and then stabbed the control panel to keep it that way.

"Appo?" he said into his comm.

Appo's voice came back, immediate and brusque. "Nothing yet, General. No droids, no bombs. There's a whole complex of tunnels down here. Searching everywhere is going to take time."

Sithspit. "Attie?"

"We've secured the data center, sir."

"Have you extracted the communication data?"

"Not yet, General. I have Zero working on the self-destruct program."

"You found it? Can you shut it down?"

"No. It's encrypted — too complex to break in the time we have. He thinks he can isolate the frequency it's using, though."

If he could do that, he could jam the signal and keep it from detonating. It was the best chance they had; at this point, Anakin had to either order an immediate retreat or tie their fate to that of the asteroid. Any longer, and there would be no time to even try to escape. "We're all in Zero's hands, then," Anakin said. "I've got nothing on my end."

"Copy, sir."

Joc came shooting out into the corridor, hitting the opposite door and righting himself. As the other clones followed him, Anakin raised his eyebrows expectantly. "Anything?"

"Nothing, General," Joc confirmed. "Some of the canisters are full, but there's no ordnance in there. Just a lot of old equipment."

Great. The countdown read two minutes and four seconds.

"Back to the data center," said Anakin.

There was nothing else they could do in the time they had left. Either Appo's men would find the detonation charge, or Zero would jam the self destruct signal, or this would be their last two minutes. This time they all used their emergency air propulsion. No sense in saving it at this point.

They made it back to the main entrance and landed back on their feet in full gravity before Attie's voice came over the open comm.

"Frequency isolated. Self-destruct neutralized. We're good, General."

The clones' collective relief flooded the Force like a sudden exhale. Anakin took a breath before responding. "Copy, Attie. Get that data and let's get off this rock. Appo, report back to the main entrance."

"Gladly, sir."

"Yes, sir."

Joc, Ross and the other clones had relaxed. There was nothing for them to do now except wait for the slicers to finish their work. Although the immediate threat was over, Anakin wasn't quite as at ease. He walked toward the entrance where Dogma and the scout walker waited, and flipped over to Transport Two's comm channel.

Ahsoka and her squads were breaching the door of their comm center, but the original, estimated eight-minute countdown had already run out. When Zero had isolated the self destruct's signal, he had synced their info-displays to the real countdown, which had actually been about ten minutes. Ahsoka had one minute and forty seconds. Stepping outside, Anakin nodded at Dogma but barely saw him as he listened to Ahsoka's men destroy the droids that met them inside the door. They had to assume their station had a tactical droid as well — was it still intact?

On command channel, Anakin said, "General Skywalker to Commander Tano. Be advised we found a tactical droid in charge of our station's defense."

"Good to know, Master," said Ahsoka's voice. "We'll keep an eye out for one."

One minute and twenty-five seconds.

This was bad. It had taken Anakin's squad two and a half minutes to neutralize their self-destruct. Could Ahsoka's men do it in under a minute and thirty, with a tactical droid lying in wait for them? All of Anakin's senses were focused on the tiny comm in his ear, relaying the orders Ahsoka's clones were giving and receiving while the seconds ticked by. His own breathing was loud over the sound of their voices, and the Force pulsed as close to him as his own heartbeat. Two facts were very clear.

The asteroid could not be allowed to blow.

Ahsoka did not have enough time to stop it.

"Ahsoka, withdraw."

" _Withdraw_? Master, we can't," said Ahsoka.

They were still on command channel, so Anakin spoke to Rex and Fives as well as Ahsoka. "You've run out of time. I am ordering you to withdraw."

One minute and fifteen seconds.

"We don't have time to make it back to the transport. We have to do this!"

"You have jetpacks!" Anakin said. "Get off the asteroid!"

"Master—"

" _Now_ , Ahsoka."

She said nothing, but he heard her order Transport Two to take off. It was Rex who came on the comm and said, "Copy that, General."

Switching back to open comm, Anakin found it filled with the noise of the order change. In one minute, twenty men launching from the asteroid's surface with jetpacks would still be close enough to be killed in the blast. It would explode, shredding them with shrapnel and ripping apart the nearby shipping lanes a few minutes later.

The asteroid could not be allowed to blow.

Anakin took two large steps and then leaped straight up, as hard as he could. It might not have been a record-breaking jump, but it was enough. He shot into the dark sky, and when he escaped the gravity field the effect was instantaneous. His flight stabilized, and he glided unmoored into nothingness.

Ahsoka's asteroid was out there somewhere. He could see the scattered bodies of the asteroid field, and a planet in the distance. If he wanted to find her he could pinpoint her location on his HUD, but seeing Ahsoka as a little green dot was not his goal.

Closing his eyes, Anakin relaxed. His motion, the turning of the asteroid, the bright life-signatures of his clones growing more distant — everything fell away. In the Force, everything was connected, but not all things were connected equally. The pull connecting Anakin to every one of his men was strong; his connection to Rex was stronger. His connection to Ahsoka was a living, burning tie that made all of these look like nothing.

She was easy to find, easy to orient to, despite the miles separating them. The Force was not a holpad that let him look out of Ahsoka's eyes, but he was there with her all the same. He could sense her fear and frustration, and above everything her overwhelming focus. Nearby, Anakin could feel her clones. Fives was the closest, just as focused as Ahsoka. Below them was the asteroid, a dark mass of rock, devoid of life but ringing with mute danger.

There was nothing — no movement Anakin's expanding senses could find, except the ponderous turn of the asteroid itself in space and— _there_. Something tiny, but not living. Where was the danger? It was small, not moving, poisonous and burning there inside the massive rock. Its imprints were everywhere in the Force, like the ripples of a stone thrown into a pool of water, the kind of silent shout that warned him of incoming blaster shots, but enormous, rebounding in every direction. Anakin found the warning's nexus, and gripped it tightly.

The asteroid could not be allowed to blow.

He held the danger, controlling it, forcing it to bend to his will. Even when it fought him, suddenly rising up and resisting him with powerful blows. It tried to break his grip, pummeling him with a torrent of unrelenting energy, crashing through him again and again like waves, but Anakin held on. He would _not_ be disobeyed. He was scoured and shaken by the rebelling blast, but he would not be defeated.

It lasted for an infinite age, until suddenly the danger vanished. It winked away like a flame going out, and Anakin was alone, exhausted.

The asteroid, when he looked for it, was gone. Ahsoka was somewhere — he could feel her vivid light, but couldn't find her. All around him, there was only nothing. The danger was gone too, though, so really, nothingness couldn't be so bad.


	12. Overreach

Anakin was aware of the _Resolute_.

He was also, of course, aware of the turn of the galaxy, the deep-river flow of the Unifying Force, and something far away that felt very... wrong. But the _Resolute_ and its many crewmembers was the first specific, smaller thing he could pinpoint. It felt like there were ants crawling over his skin and all of them were having a lot of very loud emotions, and in general was unpleasant and overwhelming.

He wished he could go back to not being aware of the _Resolute_.

A minor suspicion, though, had surfaced as well. Anakin was pretty sure there was something he was supposed to be doing right now. Somebody who needed him. Was it Ahsoka?

No... Ahsoka was nearby and she was kind of upset, but he could tell that she was safe. As a matter of fact, she was probably one of the ants. He wondered if he could ask her emotions to be quieter.

She didn't really need him, so Anakin looked for other bonds. He checked on Rex, who was fine although distracted. Master Windu was somewhere far away, tired and annoyed, but that was all. There was another bond, old and inert, that he ran over and over anxiously, like worrying the space where a lost tooth had been. Why couldn't he find Obi-Wan?

Obi-Wan.

Suddenly, Anakin's awareness shrunk. He knew what he needed to be doing, and the _Resolute_ 's crew no longer felt like shouting ants. He was here, and Ahsoka was here, and for some reason he was laying on a table—

"Whoa, slow down, Master."

Abstractly, Anakin became aware that he was dizzy. He was fine, though. The dizziness was too distant to really impact him.

"Uh, no, you're not fine," said Ahsoka. "You're totally out of it. A minute ago you were ranting about ants."

The ants. "They were so loud," Anakin heard himself say. They were quieter now that Anakin's consciousness had narrowed down to just his immediate surroundings. That was good.

"Exactly." Ahsoka was thinking about explosions, for some reason. "Now — how many fingers am I holding up?"

"Three," said Anakin, plucking the answer instantly from her mind.

Wry irritation leaked into the Force. "Use your _eyes_ , Master."

Eyes, Anakin thought. Right. He needed to inhabit his body.

Falling back on the memory of long-ago guided meditations, he tried step one: breathing. His body, assuming it was alive, should be breathing. If he could find that function, that feeling, he could get back there. Focusing on this room and the immediate moment, he looked for that measured in-out rhythm, the unconscious pulse of individual, minuscule life that was Anakin Skywalker — distinct from the Universal and Living Force.

He found Ahsoka's breathing first, and then he found himself. There were his lungs, and his heart, and his brain; Anakin concentrated hard and felt his chest rise and fall, the wind of an exhale passing out of his mouth. There was a medical bed beneath him, and it was cold where his hands gripped under the metal edge. He was _very_ dizzy.

Anakin opened his eyes.

Ahsoka was standing there, watching him with a careful wince. She held up both hands, one with two fingers raised and the other with only one. Anakin blinked. "Three," he said deliberately.

"Are you really there?" Ahsoka waved a hand in front of his eyes, like he was blind or something.

"Yeah," said Anakin. He felt like his body wasn't exactly his own; he was floating somewhere else — everywhere else, almost — and his body was sitting there all on its own like a dead lump. But he was looking out of his own eyes, which seemed like it was helping with the dizziness, and aware of himself as a singular human being. "Mostly."

Ahsoka didn't look totally convinced, but he felt her relief. "Can you lift your arms?"

Anakin did.

"Wiggle your fingers?"

Doubtfully, Anakin looked at his hand. His fingers were tiny. Moving them individually seemed a little unrealistic.

"Okay, we'll table that one for now," said Ahsoka, sighing.

Glad that Ahsoka seemed willing to move past such pointless details, Anakin turned to a more important subject. "Where is Obi-Wan?"

"Obi-Wan Kenobi?" Ahsoka hesitated, frowning. In the Force, dread pooled around her like ink-stains. "Master—"

Behind her, a door hissed open and Commander Neo stepped into the room. _He_ wasn't preoccupied, not like Ahsoka was. Maybe now Anakin would get someone to finally talk sense to him.

"General Skywalker, I'm glad to see you're awake," said Neo. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," said Anakin. "Not dizzy anymore."

"Commander, I'm really worried. He's incoherent. He just asked me where someone is, but that person has been dead for years. Does he have some kind of amnesia?"

Something about Ahsoka's question was _really_ funny, but Anakin couldn't quite pinpoint what.

Neo nodded at Ahsoka, acknowledging her, but continued addressing Anakin directly. "Do you remember what happened just before you ended up in the medbay, General?"

After thinking for a minute, Anakin said, "I won."

Standing near Anakin's table, Neo lifted his wrist and held it for a minute. Then he took Anakin's face in his hands and looked carefully at both his eyes. "You won what?"

"The race," said Anakin. "I got my asteroid before Ahsoka."

Raising an eyebrow, Neo looked over his shoulder at Ahsoka. She crossed her arms and aimed a narrow-eyed glare at Anakin.

"Do you know _why_ you're in medbay, General?"

Anakin did not. As far as he could tell, his body was in perfect working order. Even his fingers were feeling easier to use at this point. "Gonna have to say no to that one."

"From what I've been told, one of the asteroids exploded, and you contained the explosion somehow with the power of the Force. You were catatonic afterward from the time we picked you up until now — about half an hour. I don't claim to know anything about how the Force works, General, but does that seem normal to you?"

 _No!_ Ahsoka was thinking, as loud and distinct as a shout.

Taking a purposeful, deep breath, Anakin tried to explain. "I blew out. Happens sometimes. Overreach. Dangerous, but. I couldn't let the asteroid blow."

"You've experienced this before?"

Anakin nodded. Blowing out too far at once used to happen a lot, back when Obi-Wan had first taught him to open himself to the Force. That was part of the reason he'd developed an early hatred for meditation. Control was hard. Drowning was easy.

"Well, all your vital signs are normal. There's no sign of concussion or any physical trauma. This is really above my pay grade, General. I recommend you see a Jedi Healer next time one is available, but for now I'm keeping you here for observation at least until your full motor functions return. Take time to rest," said Neo. "How's your nutrition, General?"

"Bad."

Neo actually smiled — briefly, but it was there. "That's what I thought. Let's take care of that, also. Rest, and eat. I'll send someone in to check on you periodically, but comm me if anything changes."

Neo, Anakin reflected, was a good and useful man.

Before leaving, he told Ahsoka, "As far as I can tell, he's physically fine, Commander. His memory is intact, and he should start showing increased alertness and mobility over the next several minutes. If not, comm me."

Ahsoka agreed, but wasn't totally satisfied. When Neo left, a clone medic came in and hooked Anakin up with some IV fluids and gave him a nutrient-packed drink with instructions to finish all of it. He didn't really feel like eating, but it wasn't hard — the most difficult part was not dropping the cup. "How long until we get back?" Anakin asked in between swallows.

"We're already back above Centares. My asteroid was destroyed, obviously, but your techs got all the data from yours. It'll take time to analyze, but I doubt we're going to wait around."

She was right. This whole Centares mission had only been made possible by a strange lull in the Separatist offensive. They would have a new priority assignment soon, if they hadn't been assigned one already. Anakin had a lot of things to do and limited time. "You? The men?"

It was an unclear question, but Ahsoka understood him. "Everyone's fine. Not even a scratch."

Good. They needed to talk about Ahsoka's slow response to his orders, though. In the field, they couldn't afford to have an argument every time she received an order she didn't understand. "Debrief," he said, but Ahsoka's facial markings lifted doubtfully.

"Why don't we wait to do that until you can speak in full sentences."

"I can speak in full sentences," Anakin said. "Case in point."

"Look, maybe Neo hasn't heard of psychic shock, but _I_ have." Ahsoka sighed. "Master... do you even know what you did?"

"Protected you."

Pressing her mouth into a line, Ahsoka smiled tightly. "That's for sure. You _crushed_ an entire exploding asteroid with the Force, Master."

"I had to keep it small. If it exploded, there would have been too much death," Anakin repeated, not sure why this concept was so confusing for everyone.

"Yeah, I get that — but _how_? We were above the surface, not even a mile, and it was like the whole asteroid just turned molten. It just imploded into fire or something, like it was trapped in the bubble of some invisible ray-shield. And then when the fire went out there was just a crushed cluster of broken rock. I've never even heard of anything like that before. You held back _fire_? And something so big?"

"The Force is infinite, but you're right. I can't explain." Even on his best days, Anakin was only marginally capable of tackling detailed discussions on Force theory. He had just known what he had to do, and then he had done it. "Maybe it would be better to talk about it later," he admitted.

"Okay," said Ahsoka. "Did you finish the drink?"

When Anakin nodded, she pulled a nutribar from a pouch on her belt and waved it in front of his face. "Here. Eat this next." When he was slow to move, she grabbed his hand and closed it around the bar herself. "Eat it! You just expended a basically impossible amount of energy. There's no way that one nutri-shake was enough."

"I did it, though. So it can't be impossible."

She ignored him. "Master Vokara Che says that nutrition is incredibly important. You have to eat, or the Force will eat _you_."

Anakin squinted at her. "Master Che said the Force eats people?"

"Well, no. I mean, not exactly in those words. But that's basically what she _meant_." Crossing her arms, Ahsoka added, "You're not eating."

The nutribar was still in Anakin's hand. With intense concentration, he moved his fingers to rip open the packaging. His body was responding pretty well now, but these things were sometimes hard to open even normally.

"Is this one of _your_ bars?" Being from a carnivorous species, Ahsoka needed a nutrition balance slightly different from that of a human. Hers were also, somehow, even grosser than normal nutribars.

"No."

"It's one of ours? Why are you carrying around human nutribars?"

"For Master Plo, obviously," said Ahsoka. When Anakin just looked at her in blank confusion, she rolled her eyes. "For _you_ , Skyguy. Why else? _Rex_ doesn't forget to eat."

"Rex is a soldier. They specialize in boring stuff like discipline," Anakin said. He finally got the packaging fully torn off, and Ahsoka took it from him and crumpled it up into the trash chute. Much better. Anakin lifted the bar to his mouth and took a bite. Easy.

"So if discipline is too boring, what is it _you_ specialize in, then?"

Pondering the question, Anakin finally said, "Miracles."

"Oh my stars." Ahsoka pressed a thumb and finger into her closed eyelids, hard. That looked like it hurt, Anakin reflected. "Okay, you can shut up and eat your nutribar."

"Thanks."

Anakin finished the bar quickly. It would have been better to have eaten it earlier, when most of his senses were still offline but, unfortunately, he could taste just fine at this point. Ahsoka stepped closer, leaning up against the table and watching him; her thoughts and feelings didn't jump out at him quite as clearly as they had minutes ago, but she seemed more peaceful than before.

After a minute, Ahsoka asked in a tone that made it clear she was inquiring against her better judgment, "So... why exactly did you have to launch yourself into space?"

"Fewer distractions. That explosion was huge, and it took a lot of concentration to control it. Plus, I had no idea how it was going to turn out. It wouldn't be too smart to do something unpredictable and dangerous right next to my squads and our own pockets of explosive gas." Anakin had been flexing his hands, shaking out his arms, and rolling his shoulders as he spoke. "I'm going to stand up now," he announced.

"Good luck."

Standing, it turned out, was not that hard either. Ahsoka seemed a little disappointed when Anakin's legs held him just fine. A slight expansion of their bond told him that it was partially not getting to see him fall down, which would have been funny. But it was more that she dreaded having to try and keep him in the medbay now that he was ambulatory. Both valid thoughts, honestly.

Wincing, Ahsoka sharply pushed back at him in the Force. "Stop, please."

Anakin withdrew, hurt. Why didn't she just close off the bond if she wanted to avoid him?

"I can tell you're feeling better because you're not filling the whole room anymore," explained Ahsoka. "But you're still being _way_ too strong."

"Oh. Sorry."

"It's okay. I know you can't control it. Just be gentle until you feel more normal."

Experimentally, Anakin walked a narrow half-circle beside his bed, careful of the IV line that more or less tethered him. He already felt pretty normal, but apparently couldn't trust his own perception if Ahsoka was to be believed. "I assume you reported in to Master Plo?"

"Of course. He said the ministers would certainly be _relieved_ to hear the details of our success."

Ahsoka smirked, but Anakin was too distracted to smirk back. He kept pacing; it was good practice for his legs. They still badly needed to debrief, but that would have to wait. He needed to get down to the planet. "I want to talk to him. Where's my comm?" Another thought struck Anakin, and he froze. He was only wearing his pants and an undershirt, so— "Where's the rest of my stuff?"

"I don't know. I'm sure it's nearby."

"Where?" Ahsoka was watching him carefully, as if he were a rabid nexu on the end of a chain, and Anakin rolled his eyes. "I promise to stay here if you'll go find me the electronic reader I had in my utility belt."

"This sounds like an agreement I would be foolish to enter into."

Shaking his head at her, Anakin said, "It grieves me to see how cynical you've become at such an early age, Padawan."

"I'm merely trusting my instincts as a Jedi should, _Master_."

"Then perhaps your sharp instincts could lead you to my utility belt?" When her only response was a flat stare, Anakin sighed and reached for the tube in his arm, "All right, I guess I can do it myself. I'll just have to remove this IV for a minute..."

"Fine!" Ahsoka growled softly and jabbed a threatening finger into his ribs. "You _better_ still be here when I get back."

"And if you could also get me my boots, a tunic, and my 'saber, that would be great."

"You know what? I've changed my mind," intoned Ahsoka as she theatrically slapped the door pad. "I liked it better when you couldn't speak full sentences."

Anakin grinned, and then sat down on the bed to think.

There was a lot to tackle in the next short while, but before everything else: Obi-Wan.

It was time to get his master back. That slave implant had to come out. Irenia was a doctor. She would do it. With Obi-Wan's memory restored, they would fly back to the Temple together, and Anakin would finally be able to tell Obi-Wan everything he had stored up — that he was sorry for their fights, for every unfair and ungrateful thing he'd ever said.

That he was so, so sorry for leaving him on Jabiim.

Anakin had so many questions to ask, too, about training a padawan. He had asked Master Windu some of them, of course, and had plenty of other people he could get advice from, but it wasn't the same as being able to ask your own master. Anakin had missed Obi-Wan's perspective sorely, and couldn't wait to introduce him to Ahsoka. They would like each other, he was sure.

He had kept so many secrets, last time. This time, he wanted to be totally honest with Obi-Wan. Anakin had been mostly honest with Master Windu since Jabiim, but he had still lied about one thing — Padme. Even that, he knew he would need to tell Obi-Wan. He couldn't really imagine Obi-Wan taking it well, but hopefully he would be able to see how hard Anakin had worked to be better. Hopefully he would be able to see all the progress Anakin had made.

Anakin hoped, in the hidden, fragile part of his heart that still belonged to a little boy from the desert, that Obi-Wan would be proud of him.

First, he had to get back down to Muracie, and Obi-Wan's little house, and for that he would need to be in better shape than he was now. His body was functional, but Ahsoka said his Force touch was still off, and Anakin could tell that he was a little laggy mentally. The fog that blurred his perceptions and made his thoughts thick and slow was a familiar one: exhaustion.

By now he had been awake for over forty-eight hours, and it was pretty clear that expending all that Force energy on the asteroid had blown through whatever reserves he had left. Nothing but a full night's sleep was going to get Anakin back to fighting fit, but he couldn't afford to sleep now. At the same time, though, he couldn't afford to be dragging when he went to get Obi-Wan.

When the door hissed open and Ahsoka reappeared, Anakin straightened up. He hadn't sensed her before she came in the door — a good sign that his perceptions were no longer hyperextended. Rex stepped through after her, and he was carrying Anakin's belongings.

"I distinctly remember sending Ahsoka to get those. Not that you don't make a top-notch valet, Rex."

"I don't know what that is," said Rex, setting the small pile of things on the bed beside Anakin and saluting casually. "Good to see you're up and about, General."

"You too. None of us were vaporized — I call that a good morning."

"Not exactly a 'quick day trip,' though. Your display was... impressive."

In the middle of putting on his boots, Anakin narrowed his eyes at Rex. The captain's face was completely serious, but his steady Force presence was shot through with bright sparks of irony. "Did you come by to talk about my _display_?"

"I thought you might want a report on the mission outcome."

Anakin couldn't put on his tunic without dislodging the IV drip, so he didn't. Exchanging a look with Rex, he said, "Ahsoka, would you go get Neo for me?"

Crossing her arms, Ahsoka didn't move until he made a pointed gesture at the door. Then she only went under protest, saying with asperity, "You think you're so subtle, but you're _not_."

Once she was gone, Anakin raised his eyebrows. "Concerns?"

"A few," said Rex.

"About me, or Ahsoka?" If it were one of the men or something else, Rex would have brought up the topic explicitly.

"Little of both, sir."

"Let's see if I can guess. Distraction, shoddy prep, poor oversight of the mission as a whole... that's all I've got for me. Is there something I should know about Ahsoka, beyond what went down on the comm?"

Rex smiled crookedly. "That's most of it. Our initial briefing indicated that there could be no retreat once we had committed to the assault. If retreat _was_ an option, that should have been something we were made aware of earlier."

Extreme, emergency Force exploits couldn't really be included in a briefing, but Anakin knew what Rex was saying. It was due to Anakin's energies being much more divided than usual that he hadn't put more time into mission preparation beforehand, or kept a closer eye on Ahsoka's progress. He nodded. "You're right. I am distracted, and it was a problem. There's something going on that I can't talk about yet, but it'll be over by the time we leave Centares. You, me, and Ahsoka will definitely have a talk later."

"Yes, sir."

"Also, I want a commendation given to that new tech, Zero, and one to Attie," Anakin added thoughtfully.

"The tech I know about from Attie's report, but why Attie himself?"

"It was his quick thinking that had Zero working on the self-destruct instead of the data in the first place. The original orders indicated that the data was to be extracted as soon as the databanks were discovered, and he had no time to ask for order change or clarification in the moment. They both saved all our lives."

Rex nodded. "I'll make sure it gets done."

"Thank you. What do you know about our immediate plans, Rex? Are we deploying?"

"Yes sir, departure should be soon. Commander Wolffe actually commed a few minutes ago — General Koon has received orders to take the fleet to the Prackla Sector. I'll be heading down after this to coordinate the mobilization."

If it weren't for Obi-Wan, Anakin would have said, _Finally_. They should have been taking aggressive advantage of this rare break in the Separatist offensive a week ago; they had lost a devastating amount of Mid Rim territory lately, and the fact that the Separatist attack had faltered on its own was nothing short of a gift from the Force. Now was the best opportunity they might ever get to strike back. However, mobilization would take several hours, and Anakin would need longer than that.

He was relieved to find the OEI scanner still safely in his utility belt, and that it hadn't sustained any damage during the action. "I'll—" he began, but Ahsoka walked into the room with Neo, and Anakin pivoted to include her in what he'd been about to say. "Snips, you and Rex will handle mobilization?"

"Of course," said Ahsoka. "You need to rest."

"About that... Neo, I need this IV unplugged."

Neo barely reacted. "Going somewhere, General?"

"Yes, I have to return to the planet."

"Your secret project." Ahsoka's tone was one of tested patience, though Anakin didn't think there was call to sound quite so much like a long-suffering creche master.

"I'll be available on comm, in the event that departure time is approaching." This was not a discussion, and Anakin was not _asking_ permission to leave the medbay. But there was one thing that he might have to actually ask for. Taking a breath, he quickly said, "And I need a stim shot."

At this, Neo raised his eyebrows. "I can't recommend you returning to duty at all, General. I absolutely cannot recommend you doing it under the power of stimulant drugs."

Concern spiking in her Force presence, Ahsoka said, "We're not in battle, Master."

Anakin shook his head. Stim shots were a tool for the field, when an immediate, short-term infusion of energy was the difference between life and death to a weary soldier. Used too much, they could be dangerous and addictive. Jedi hardly ever used them, since normally they were able to draw on the Force to defeat their bodies' limitations.

That wasn't an option for Anakin at the moment.

 _Give me the kriffing shot, Neo_ , he wanted to say, but while Anakin outranked him, as chief medical officer, Neo had authority over his patients' treatment. He could allow or withhold as he thought best, and Anakin couldn't technically overrule him.

"I know I need to rest, and I intend to rest," he said, wishing that for once he had a fraction of Padme's or Obi-Wan's skill in persuasion. "I know a stim shot is not a substitute for healing. But I urgently need to function for the next several hours, that's all, and that's what stim shots _are_ for. This is something I need to do."

Neo didn't look moved. Ahsoka sighed, plainly waiting for Neo's inevitable refusal — give an exhausted, mentally unstable man likely suffering from psychic shock a stim shot when there was no desperate need for one? Ridiculous. But then Neo's eyes fell to the OEI scanner Anakin still held in his hand. He looked at Anakin, and then back at the scanner.

"One shot," said Neo. "Know that you will crash hard afterward, in proportion to your current fatigue, and it will likely delay your actual recovery."

Ahsoka turned to Neo, eyes wide and appalled. As he stepped forward to remove the IV tube from Anakin's arm, she watched him, gaze quickly turning contemplative. Anakin suspected that she realized Neo must know something she didn't.

Finally free, Anakin stood up and pulled on his tunic. With the OEI mapper safely stowed in his belt and his lightsaber hung on its clip, he felt more balanced than he had since he'd returned from the disembodied Force. Neo left and returned with a hypospray stim shot in its auto-injector case; Anakin pushed up his sleeve to offer his arm, but Neo only handed the shot over to him.

They were made to be easily self-administered on the battlefield, so Anakin stabbed himself without hesitation. Seconds after he'd depressed the trigger button and felt the needle pierce his skin, a warm lightning glow burned through his body. Anakin blinked. He didn't vibrate with hyper energy, like he'd half expected — instead, it was as though a film of corrosion he hadn't even noticed had been cleaned away.

Everything was clearer, brighter, more obvious, and the world seemed to have slowed down just a few fractions of a second. His thoughts were sharp, and he knew without trying that his muscles would respond to his will instantly and effortlessly. Taking the discharged injector case, now a useless hunk of plasticast, Anakin threw it across the room.

All three of them watched the injector case ricochet off the edge of a table and directly into the garbage chute.

"Wow." Anakin rolled his shoulders experimentally. "That's, uh. Effective."

"Yes," said Rex, in the tone of one who knew.

"How long 'till this wears off?"

Neo shrugged. "Up to four hours, but standard-issue stim shots are calibrated for our metabolism, not yours. I would imagine, given your use of the Force, that you might burn through it faster."

"Okay."

"Also — eat."

Anakin frowned. "I already did."

"Eat more," said Neo.

Anakin looked at Ahsoka. With a perfect, innocent smile, she pulled two more nutribars from her belt and shook them in his direction. Reluctantly, he accepted them, opening one right away. Might as well get it over with.

"Well?" he said, grimly munching. "I only have a couple hours left before I collapse, right? Don't we all have somewhere to be?"

There were distinct tinges of humor flavoring the Force, but Anakin couldn't quite tell where they were coming from. "Absolutely, General," said Rex, sharing a look with Ahsoka.

Ahsoka just sighed.


	13. The Art of Distraction

Finally back on the ground, Anakin's first act was to appropriate a speeder bike and fire it toward Irenia's clinic as fast as possible.

When he pulled up out front, he didn't even bother securing the bike before going in. It was a different place when it was actually open — a lot more people around in general, and there was a real receptionist this time instead of someone's kid. That was all he really had the spare interest to register as he marched up to the desk.

"Get me Irenia."

"Um," said the woman. "Do you have an appointment?"

"What? No. I'm Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Knight, and I need to speak with her _now_. Go get her, please."

The woman stood up and almost fled. She was back in minutes, red-faced and hurrying behind Irenia.

"Mr. Skywalker," Irenia said, smiling like she would love to bite out his throat. "How can I help you?"

"We need to get that implant out, like right now."

Pleasant expression still frozen in place, Irenia nodded. "Certainly. If you'll follow me, we can discuss this somewhere more appropriate."

The wide eyes of almost every waiting patient watched them as they left, but Anakin hardly noticed. He followed Irenia to a small, empty room that was nearly filled with what looked like some kind of fabricating equipment. When the door hissed shut, every suggestion of friendliness dropped from her face.

She whirled on him. "What do you think you're doing, coming here like this? You do know that I have _sick people_ that I am trying to—"

"Are you a surgeon? You can take the chip out, right?" Anakin honestly didn't have time for some kind of dramatic exchange. Why couldn't she see how important this was?

"Excuse me?"

"The implant—"

"Yes, I heard you!" Irenia shut her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose with a thumb and forefinger. Anakin waited as she let out a long, even breath. "Okay. Start over at the beginning, and if you would be so kind, please explain to me why you're charging in here, interrupting my work, and being horribly rude to my receptionist."

This had the echo of various "slow down, Anakin" conversations he'd had with Padme. He _had_ said "please" to the receptionist, but he doubted whether Padme would have appreciated him bringing up that detail at this point, so he didn't. Taking a deep breath of his own, Anakin used a second to rein in his racing thoughts. Irenia was missing something, or she wouldn't be reacting like he was attacking her. What step had he skipped...?

Ah.

"The implant," repeated Anakin, this time calmly. He pulled out the OEI scanner and shook it at her. "This is what I discovered."

How much time would she need to read it? Anakin counted to sixty, watching Irenia's face darken as she scanned the readout, and then counted to sixty again even slower. Surely that was enough? "It's causing his amnesia," he said experimentally, "and the seizures. Slave technology."

Irenia shook her head, still staring at the holoscreen. "This is monstrous," she said, voice utterly flat.

"It needs to come out. Now."

This time, she and Anakin were finally on the same wavelength. She looked him in the eye, gave him back the device, and said, "Yes. And yes — I can take it out. It's a simple procedure. The only problem is going to be getting him to let me do it."

Anakin had thought of that. "Sedation?"

"Doesn't work. He wakes up if it's tampered with, even when he first came to us and we had him sedated to treat his other injuries."

"Sithspit." They could try and hack the chip in order to bypass the deactivation code, but Anakin was no slicer, and he didn't think Irenia was either. Obi-Wan was better at that kind of thing, and _he_ couldn't do it. "Okay, um. Is there a way to short it out? And then remove it when it's inactive?"

Irenia gave him a dry look. "I kind of don't like that idea, since the implant is directly connected to Alpha's nervous system."

Anakin crossed his arms. That left him with only one real idea, and he didn't like it. He doubted Irenia would like it any better, so he kept it under wraps for now. At length, he said, "Well. I guess I'm gonna do what I did before."

"What's that?"

"Ask nicely." He shrugged at Irenia's unimpressed expression. "If I go get him, bring him here — will you do the procedure?"

"Yes. I guess I'll go guilt-trip one of my colleagues into taking my appointments." Irenia sighed, dragging a hand down her face. She stood perfectly still, eyes closed for a moment, and then straightened. "Okay. I'll wait for you in imaging."

"Where's that?"

"Alpha knows."

She was already moving to press the door release, apparently considering their business concluded. Anakin caught her wrist briefly, and she froze. She didn't look at him, didn't move, even when he released his grip, and Anakin knew what she expected him to say.

He said it anyway.

"You know this will unlock his memory."

She did. She looked at him, clearly hating him a little. "Perhaps. And perhaps you don't know him as well as you think you do." Irenia turned away, dignity as impenetrable as a stone. "If you'll excuse me, I have preparations to make."

When she was gone, Anakin shook his head briefly. She had healed Obi-Wan and clearly cared about him. For that, he had felt obligated to warn her. Now that he had, it was time to move on to his much more pressing task. Irenia would have to take care of herself, as she was clearly intent on doing.

Now, to Obi-Wan.

On his way, his comm chimed. He didn't hear it, and wouldn't have noticed at all if it weren't for its buzz in his pocket. "SKYWALKER," he yelled above the speeder bike's whine and the wind that roared in his ears. Ahsoka's voice was muffled and tinny in response, even though he had his comm basically stuffed in his ear.

"Hey Skyguy, you about done with your secret project?"

"I JUST STARTED, AHSOKA."

"I just wanted to let you know, you have _maybe_ an hour and a half. We don't have much personnel left on-planet and Master Plo expects mobilization to be quick."

"WHAT?"

Frightened pedestrians leaped out of the way as Anakin flew by, apparently not having the same faith in his one-handed steering that he did.

"WE ARE LEAVING IN AN HOUR," Ahsoka shouted.

"OKAY, WELL—" He turned onto Obi-Wan's street and slowed drastically down. "Okay, well, if Master Plo starts to kick up a big fuss about where I am, comm me. Or better yet, have _him_ comm me. I'll fill him in and have him delay departure."

"I don't think Master Plo is really the type to 'kick up a fuss', big or otherwise."

Anakin didn't have time for a pithy back-and-forth. He parked in front of Obi-Wan's house. "You know what I mean."

"Yeah, okay." There was a pause. "Do you really think they would let you _delay departure_ for your secret project?"

Anakin honestly hadn't given it much thought, and therefore took a moment to do so. "Yeah," he said. "I'm pretty sure they would."

After a minute, Ahsoka replied in a tone of affected disinterest, "All right. Try to hurry, though, okay, Skyguy?"

"Will do. Talk to you soon."

" _Very_ soon," she insisted, and then signed off.

It would be right about now that Ahsoka's curiosity would kick into overdrive, from a merely interested spark into a fully focused blaze. If all went well, Anakin didn't plan to leave her wondering for long.

He triggered Obi-Wan's door alarm and had barely taken his finger off the button when it was answered. There was a speaker and comm system to ask the visitor to identify themselves, but Obi-Wan just opened the door without bothering to find out for whom.

Just as he had when Anakin had shown up at the clinic yesterday, Obi-Wan visibly brightened upon seeing him. "Anakin!" he said, smiling. "Come in!"

Anakin just stared for one frozen moment, his heart kicking hard in his chest and leaving him speechless. Swallowing, he finally managed to say, "Hi." When he started to smile, it felt like he might never stop.

Grinning back at Obi-Wan, he stepped through the door feeling ten different kinds of at peace. The war? The encoded Separatist data? The fleet about to leave without him? Irenia's anger? The urgency of freeing Obi-Wan from the malicious chip? He was pretty sure he could manage all of it with ease if he could always make Obi-Wan that happy.

"You look better."

"The restorative qualities of sleep, I suppose," said Obi-Wan, incredibly uninterested in discussing his own health. "Are _you_ all right?"

Anakin hadn't actually paused to consider his own appearance after waking up in the medbay. Hopefully, he didn't look deranged or like he'd just crushed an asteroid with the power of his mind an hour ago. Come to think of it, that might explain some of his reception at the clinic. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little tired."

"Can I get you anything to drink? How did your task— mission— go?"

"No thanks, I'm good." Anakin paused to note the difficulty Obi-Wan had even characterizing something to do with the war. The implant? Or not? "It went well. A couple hitches, a little intense there for a while—"

He paused again, frowning at the living area. If he wasn't mistaken, all the furniture had been completely rearranged since last night. Anakin took a second look at Obi-Wan, and then, in dawning realization, a third.

"You are bored as _kriff_ , aren't you?"

Obi-Wan crossed his arms, but he didn't smokescreen or deflect. "I've had my arm twisted a bit, and I _may_ have been foolish enough to promise that I wouldn't leave the house today. Something about 'rest'."

"Uh oh. Irenia's playing with fire."

Rolling his eyes, Obi-Wan shrugged. "I've eaten, studied, cleaned everything I can think to clean... I was trying to work on a few projects for the clinic, but I can't seem to focus." He glanced around, a thoughtful frown clouding his face. "I feel like I've done everything I can do here."

Anakin took a deep breath and tried not to seem like sheer intensity was about to make him leap out of his own skin. He hooked his thumbs in his belt and said, with a passable attempt at nonchalance, "Then it's a good thing I'm here to entertain you."

"Is that why you're here?" Obi-Wan eyed him with skeptical humor.

"Well... no." Anakin made a face at his master, but then lapsed into seriousness. This was going to be difficult. Subtlety was not one of Anakin's strongest skills, so he was going to have to play to his straightforward nature — but not be _too_ straightforward. The last thing he wanted to do was provoke another seizure. "I'm here because my fleet is going to have to depart pretty soon. We're done on Centares."

Obi-Wan blinked. "Oh."

"But — I _did_ discover how to reverse your memory loss."

"Oh?" he repeated himself, this time with an entirely different tone and an arched eyebrow.

"Yes." Anakin was not going to joke about this, even if Obi-Wan wanted to. Not even a little. "So now you have a decision to make. Come on, let's talk."

Like before, he picked a spot on the living room run and sat down.

"Is the sitting on the floor part required?"

"Yes," said Anakin firmly.

Honestly, if you weren't meditating, there was no reason not to stand or sit somewhere like a normal person, but it had worked last time, and Anakin had taken a liking to it anyway. It made serious conversations seem less threatening. He might start making Ahsoka sit on the floor with him whenever they had to talk.

Obi-Wan huffed, but joined him. "So, you think you've found a way to perform a miracle."

"I'm something of a miracle specialist, actually," said Anakin, mostly to see Obi-Wan's narrow-eyed look in response. "But that's not what the decision is about. You said you wanted your memory back, but—"

"We already settled this."

"Yeah, but you don't know anything about your life before, so you haven't had the ability to make an informed decision."

Anakin could practically see the ice form in Obi-Wan's eyes. "Anakin," he said, far too calmly, "the fact that I _don't know anything about my life_ is informing my decision."

Delighted at his early success, Anakin was also thrown into unnerving flashbacks of half-faded teenage memories. He might not be a miracle specialist (although Anakin personally thought he could make a half-decent claim to that title) but he was pretty sure he was the uncontested expert in the art of provoking Obi-Wan Kenobi. In that vein, he pressed on.

"Think about it," he said, delivering this slap in the face with artless sincerity. "Here, you have this life, a purpose, people who care about you. Back home, it's not all a garden of Ithorian roses."

"I don't care what it is. I care that it's _mine_ ," said Obi-Wan, his irritation still only shown through rigid coolness.

Stubbornness drives fully engaged, Anakin judged. Excellent. Time to pivot in another direction.

Apologetically, Anakin said, "You know, I can't tell you much about what we do — it's all pretty classified. But you do have enemies. We are at war. What Ventress did to you happened _because_ of what we do, and it's only a tiny taste of how awful the war can be. Even on good days we're always on the run, very little sleep..."

All of those statements were true. They were also vague enough hints to appeal exactly to that part of Obi-Wan which hated for there to be anything that he did not know.

Eyes narrowed and knowing, Obi-Wan looked at Anakin hard. "What are you playing at?"

"I just want to make sure you know what you're getting into."

Anakin was as pure and innocent as a kriffing angel. He widened his eyes at Obi-Wan, spreading his hands, palms upward in a cards-on-the-table gesture. A long pause as Obi-Wan held his gaze, and Anakin hoped he hadn't outsmarted himself already. He had needed to get Obi-Wan's back up, but didn't want his master _actually_ angry with him.

"Thank you for your concern." Obi-Wan's sarcasm was well-sharpened, but Anakin bit down on a grin. He was still just sparring. "But this doesn't change anything. I don't think you quite understand, Anakin. I have nothing. I don't know where I come from, what I've done, what I like or dislike — nothing. I don't know who I would be with my memory restored, but it doesn't matter. It would be enough to be able to be _me_."

"Master—"

For a moment, thought of anything else fled Anakin's head. Blindsided by Obi-Wan's honesty, he could only respond in kind. He could hear the longing in his master's voice, and that formless question was back in his eyes, the lines of his mouth, the divot between his furrowed eyebrows — like if he just stared long enough and hard enough, he would see the hidden answer he sought.

"You _are_ you."

"You know that." Obi-Wan jabbed Anakin's chest with a single finger. "I don't. I don't know _who_ I am — but I want to, more than anything. Trust me, I've had a long, long time to imagine all the worst possible things I could find out. It doesn't matter."

A brief, wry smile pressed at the corner of his mouth, and Anakin returned it with a shade of resignation. It was almost time, if he wasn't mistaken.

"More than anything," Anakin repeated quietly, chasing about six thoughts at once. "Enough to give up everything you have here?"

Obi-Wan looked at him, eyes dark. "Maybe," he said after a pause, "I won't have to."

When Anakin laughed the sound was brittle. It was the same unconvincing lie he tried to tell himself every time he had to leave Padme for the war front, and shocking to hear from Obi-Wan's mouth. A little bit of something jagged and sharp, familiar from the last, tumultuous year of Anakin's apprenticeship, fell between them. "You can only have one or the other. I know you, Master."

"That makes one of us."

"No," said Anakin, flat. "You know exactly what I'm talking about."

How many times had Obi-Wan made this choice in the past? He lifted his chin, looking young and mulish, and made it again. "I want to know who I am."

Anakin exhaled. He took a protracted minute to refocus.

His master didn't know anything. There was no point in getting hung up on memories of long-ago arguments — not when he'd gone over and over all the things he'd do differently, if he had the chance. Obi-Wan's eyes were still bright with a stubborn light, and Anakin smiled. Maybe they would still come back to those disagreements later, in a better way, once Obi-Wan could remember.

"Okay, then, the only other thing you have to decide is — do you trust me?"

Obi-Wan had all but told Anakin off for suggesting that he might be untrustworthy, before. Now, Obi-Wan just tilted his head a little. The confrontation was draining out of him, leaving room for reflection, which was... good. Probably, anyway. He couldn't afford to think _too_ much.

"Why?"

"You always acted like you don't believe it can be done," said Anakin. "Restoring your memories, I mean. Like it's impossible. _Delusions of grandeur_ , you said."

"You must admit that it seems unlikely," said Obi-Wan, too carefully.

Anakin was starting to sweat.

Honestly, Obi-Wan was too smart for this plan. If he were able to fire on all cylinders, he would have seen through Anakin's frankly transparent maneuvering ages ago. For all that the chip seemed to block him from pondering too long on certain topics, this was only going to work if Obi-Wan wanted it to. His master was an expert at avoidance and willful blindness, especially when it came to himself, Anakin knew, and he was going to need all of that skill right now.

Shrugging, Anakin tried to look casual and not like he was about to scream from sheer tension. "I can do it, Master. I promised you I would, right?"

Obi-Wan nodded once, but reserved anything beyond that.

"I'm gonna make you another promise." Anakin moved a little closer, so that their knees bumped. He took a second to think, and then met Obi-Wan's cautious gaze. "I won't let anything bad happen to you, okay? I'll die first."

Somewhat nonplussed, Obi-Wan looked as if he wanted to say something. Anakin hurried to beat him to the punch.

"You should think about whether you believe that, because if you don't, then you shouldn't let me near you. But if you do, then I'm going to need you to trust me."

Obi-Wan, in full command of his memories, would have said something like, _Trust you? After what you pulled on Mawan?_ or perhaps, _Says the boy who purposefully drove through a power coupling yesterday_. But the unvoiced answer would still have rung clear as a bell: _Yes_.

Now, since Obi-Wan lacked the context for implication or connotation, Anakin had the rare privilege of hearing him say exactly what he meant.

"Yes. I trust you, Anakin." He added dryly, "Even though you are obviously setting me up for some kind of trap."

"No trap, Master. I just wanna make sure it's going to work, and it won't unless you're all in."

"Well then, consider me all in."

"Okay." Unfolding his legs suddenly, Anakin stood. "Then it looks like we're going to have to break your promise not to leave the house."

"Where?" Obi-Wan took Anakin's offered hand and pulled himself up.

"The clinic."

That gave him pause. "Oh."

The hesitation was worrying, but Anakin thought he recognized the source of it. "Irenia's waiting for us already. I went there first," he explained, and watched Obi-Wan relax. Success.

That out of the way, he didn't question anything else. Irenia, with all that _maybe you don't know him as well as you think you do_ stuff, could honestly suck Anakin's exhaust fumes.

"Are we going now?"

"Yeah. Let's take your speeder," said Anakin, who was still thinking about exhaust fumes.

"All right, but you're not driving."

Momentarily stupefied by a sudden realization, Anakin followed Obi-Wan outside. During his apprenticeship, no matter how vigorously and dramatically his master had always complained about his piloting, Obi-Wan had _never_ refused to let him fly. Anakin had been flying both of them continuously since he was twelve years old.

What did that mean? Surely if Obi-Wan had hated it so much, he would have said something years ago exactly like he _just had_?

"By the way, Anakin?"

"Huh?" Anakin blinked vacantly at his master for a moment before he was able to shelve his thoughts for another time. Obi-Wan already sat at the speeder controls, and Anakin hopped over the side and into the passenger seat. "Yeah, what?"

"I want you to remember — I want my memory back."

"Yeah," said Anakin slowly. They had just settled this for like the fourth time. "That's the whole point of this."

Obi-Wan didn't look at him. His eyes stayed fixed on the speeder dashboard, and then on the path in front of them as they pulled away from the house. "I just want you to remember. I might not — It may be impossible for me to be _enthusiastic_."

What? Anakin frowned, and then noticed that he was pretty much mirroring the expression on Obi-Wan's face.

"Regardless, I am telling you now that what I want is my memory. That is what I want you to act on. You understand?" Even now, Obi-Wan didn't risk a glance at him. "Make it happen, Anakin."

That tone had Anakin instinctively straightening and answering, "Yes, Master."

He had his mouth open to say that he didn't see why they were going all over this again — and then he saw Obi-Wan's painfully white-knuckled grip on the speeder throttle. Ah. A single narrow-eyed look took in all the signs Anakin had been missing, familiar from last night's abruptly-ended conversation about apprenticeship oaths.

How bad could it be if Obi-Wan seized while driving?

They weren't going _too_ fast. Anakin thought he would probably be able to get them both out alive in the event of a crash. Still, he kind of wished Obi-Wan hadn't chosen to try and pretend he wasn't talking about the forbidden topic that he _was_ talking about at a time when he was operating a moving vehicle.

"No matter what," said Obi-Wan, sounding as if he'd forced the words out through gritted teeth.

"Yeah, I understand, Master. I've got you."

On the one hand, Obi-Wan had pretty much obliquely given Anakin permission to remove the chip by force even if he tried to back out of the procedure, which... was a somewhat disturbing thought. On the other hand, it was quickly becoming apparent that Anakin needed to do something fast if he didn't want his day to include a fiery speeder wreck.

"Hey," blurted Anakin, "do you know the average albedo of Centax-2? The moon?"

Now Obi-Wan did look at him, only to frown as if he suspected Anakin had finally lost his mind. "Um. 0.152," he said. "The brightest satellite of Coruscant."

Anakin grinned.

"What?"

Instead of answering, Anakin said, "Where we live — at home—"

"Coruscant?"

"Yeah — There's a planetarium. They use it for all kinds of things, like teaching astronomy, navigation, and astrophysics to the younglings and stuff. The holos they have are incredibly high-res. They fill the whole room, and you always feel like you could almost grab and hold the planets and stars that float by. Even though, you know, they're just projected holos."

"It sounds beautiful."

Obi-Wan had relaxed noticeably, Anakin saw with satisfaction. "Yeah, it's pretty amazing. I had some classes there, but," he shrugged, "I get bored after a while. _You_ , though — I would always find you there."

Eyebrows raised, Obi-Wan glanced at him. "Oh?"

" _Hours_ , Master. You could spend _hours_ there. First I thought you were just really into astrography, which you are, but... anytime you were stressed, or had a problem to think about or something, that would be one of two places I would know to look for you. Once, when I was a kid," Anakin said, warming to a memory he hadn't thought of in a long time, "I tried to see if I could outlast you."

"You fell asleep."

Shocked delight burst warm in Anakin's chest, and his eyes widened. He also may or may not have been gaping like a fish, for one wild moment convinced that there had been some mistake and Obi-Wan knew everything after all. Obi-Wan eyed him with something like a smirk before he had to turn back and watch where he was going.

"I don't remember," he said. "It's just obvious."

Anakin wondered if he should be insulted. He tried to summon some indignation, but it was impossible and he quickly gave up. "Yeah, well. I woke up the next day in my own bed. You had carried me back, and I'm pretty sure I spent the next year actively trying to forget the visual of being carried like a baby in front of _everyone_."

When Obi-Wan laughed he actually threw his head back, and the amusement did not fade from his eyes afterward. "How old were you?"

"Eleven, maybe?" He hadn't been at the Temple for too long, but he had certainly been old enough to be stung by the embarrassment.

They turned, and the clinic came into view ahead, and it was like the sight drained away Anakin's words. Just keeping up a constant distraction wasn't going to be enough to see Obi-Wan through this, he knew. Could Obi-Wan fight the chip's influence long enough?

 _Make it happen, Anakin_ , Obi-Wan had said.

If the implant overpowered his master, and Anakin had to hold him down with the Force... could he? _Should_ he? He couldn't deny that the possibility had crossed his mind long before Obi-Wan himself had hinted at it. It was the only idea he'd had left after he and Irenia had discarded the other options. If it became necessary, would Irenia still do the procedure? Anakin had chosen not to mention it to her for a reason.

Thinking about restraining Obi-Wan and taking out the implant while he struggled and resisted was repulsive to Anakin. That was probably how Ventress had put it in. But. He had promised Obi-Wan his memory back. He would do it, if he had to. Anakin took a deep breath. He would put his trust in Obi-Wan's stubbornness, and hope that it wouldn't be necessary.


	14. Subconscious

Obi-Wan parked in a subterranean lot. A lift that Anakin hadn't even noticed dropped them down beneath the clinic, and Obi-Wan secured the speeder and got out with the thoughtless, easy movements of daily routine. Anakin chose to jump out over the side, something that Obi-Wan's expression clearly noted and mocked him for. When he paused, Anakin expected to get called a show-off, or something of that nature.

Instead, Obi-Wan said, "I would like to see that planetarium someday."

Anakin blinked. He lifted his chin. "You will, Master." And then, when he felt he was in danger of staring too seriously, he added, "If there's a way out of this dungeon. I'm pretty sure we're supposed to be _in_ the clinic, not under it."

Rolling his eyes, Obi-Wan led the way to another lift, this time one for people. "Where exactly are we headed?"

"Irenia said to meet her in imaging."

"All right."

Obi-Wan did know the way, as Irenia had predicted. It was only a few hallways from the lift to imaging, but Obi-Wan couldn't walk it without getting trapped in conversations with thirty of his acquaintances, apparently.

"Alpha!" said a young man in an unmarked medical tunic. He was maybe Anakin's age, probably younger. Too well-mannered to stare, he nevertheless measured Anakin in one brightly intelligent glance. "Where have you been?"

Obi-Wan smiled at him, addressing him as Suzor and saying something cursory about parts for the new emergency response relay. "Have you persuaded Doctor Roh to let you observe anything yet?"

"No, he's still got me doing paperwork." Suzor shrugged, self-deprecating and amused. "Stuck in the feedback loop of needing experience to advance, but not being able to get experience without advancing first. I keep telling you, I'll owe you a favor if you put in a good word for me."

"Yes, because my educated medical opinion is _so_ valuable to Roh."

Making a wry face, Suzor said, "Ah, well. I guess I should rededicate myself to the never-ending adversity of life as an intern."

"In that case, I'll leave you to your self-mortification," Obi-Wan deadpanned.

They parted, clearly mutually satisfied with the brief banter, and Anakin considered asking who Suzor was. He decided not to, first because he really didn't care, and second because asking would likely only delay them even further. The faster they got to imaging and to Irenia, the better.

Then, Obi-Wan stopped to greet someone else. And after that, someone _else_.

Standing awkward and silent like a too-tall shadow at Obi-Wan's shoulder, Anakin couldn't tell if Obi-Wan was happy to chat, or if he was also impatient and was simply being polite. It was infuriating, not least because he wouldn't have had to wonder if he had access to Obi-Wan in the Force like he _should_ have. By the time Obi-Wan finally led them through a door labeled IMAGING, Anakin was about ready to jump out of his skin.

A droid accosted them, its sky-blue plasticast face and modulated voice clearly meant to be reassuring. "Welcome to the Skrell 5 Neighborhood Clinic's Imaging Department. How can I help you?"

"They're mine, J-4."

Irenia stood up from where she had been leaning on the droid's workstation. Her voice had been brusque, but she smiled at Obi-Wan and came forward to hug him. Anakin watched it unfold with the morbid curiosity with which he would watch a massive podracer wipe-out. "You made it," she said, nothing but pleasure in her tone now.

She didn't look at Anakin, or speak to him, so he thought he was justified in assuming that all the previous brusqueness had been for his benefit. He didn't mind, as long as they got this done.

"Couldn't miss a chance to disobey orders," said Obi-Wan. "So, what is it exactly that we're supposed to be doing?"

Briefly, Irenia's eyes met Anakin's, and he regretted that they hadn't planned this out more explicitly than they had. Or at all.

"Follow me," said Irenia.

They did. Doctors and technicians were doing their quiet work all throughout the imaging department, escorting patients in and out. None paid much attention to them, focused as they were, and Irenia's destination was not far. They ended up in front of a door marked with a number three. To Anakin it was much the same as any other place in the clinic, but Obi-Wan made a noise of curiosity.

"Have they got the new equipment in yet?"

"Nope." Irenia raised an eyebrow at him as she triggered the door. "That's why we're here — no one will bother us."

"Ominous," murmured Obi-Wan.

Irenia's statement might have been, but the room wasn't ominous. Imaging Three was just a room — small, medical-white, and mostly empty. The only thing breaking up the bare floor, besides a few wires and crates crammed in the corner, was an improvised medical station. A mobile hospital bed had been pushed into the middle of the room, and beside it stood a hovertable with several sterilized tools neatly laid out and ready.

A basic medical droid of a model Anakin didn't recognize waited there as well, spinning on its cylindrical hover-base as they entered the room. "Good morning, Doctor Mazaar, Mr. Alpha," it said in a cheerful, synthesized voice. "Is this the patient?"

"Nope," Anakin said when it turned to him. "I'm Anakin Skywalker. Pleased to meet you."

"I am pleased to meet you as well, I am sure. I am HM-418, Medical Analysis and Assistance. But I must ask, Doctor Mazaar, why have we prepared for a procedure if there is no patient?"

"Alpha is the patient, Four-Eighteen. Did you get everything I asked for?"

"I believe so, Doctor." The droid's bright, round photoreceptors gave it a constantly wide-eyed look. "Mr. Alpha, my preliminary analysis does not reveal your illness. Shall I undertake more detailed tests?"

"No," said Obi-Wan, staying very far away from both droid and medstation.

"Stand down, he's not sick," said Irenia as she double-checked the supplies on the table. Anakin saw three hyposprays, a sonic scalpel, and several individual packages of something he didn't recognize. From his experience with field medicine, it didn't look like she was expecting to have to do anything too involved.

"Ah, then you are being upgraded. That is excellent."

Giving the droid a quelling look, Irenia said, "Four-Eighteen, hush."

"Very well, I will enter silent mode until further notice," replied Four-Eighteen, a little offended.

"Alpha, get over here and sit down. If everyone cooperates, this should be a quick procedure and we'll know right away if it works."

"So this one _has_ got you believing in his medical miracles?" Obi-Wan paused by the bed and cocked an eyebrow.

"If there is going to be a medical miracle, I fully expect to be the one performing it." Still, Irenia refused to look at Anakin. "And there's no reason to not try every option. Unless you'd rather _not_ regain your memory?"

Irenia's tone was arch, like the question was rhetorical, but it wasn't. Her disquiet whispered in the Force, even as she worked to keep it tightly under control. Was she worried that Anakin would push Obi-Wan into something against his will? He didn't take it personally — she was just looking out for Obi-Wan, which was something Anakin could always get behind.

In any case, the obviously theatrical narrow-eyed look Obi-Wan instantly shot toward Anakin should have reassured her. "So there _is_ a conspiracy here," he declared. "For the last time, yes! That is what I want."

Taking up her post by the instrument table, Irenia gestured at the bed again. "Then I expect you to sit still and behave for me."

Again, white-knuckled tension leaked through her attempt at teasing, and again, Obi-Wan looked at Anakin. This time, he hesitated. Moving closer to the bed, Anakin leaned on it, filling Obi-Wan's space, and shrugged. "Sure. We can do that — right, Master?"

"Sitting still. How hard can it be?" Obi-Wan hoisted himself up onto the bed and sat.

Already, he was clasping his hands together tightly, forcing them to be motionless. Sitting through this was going to be one of the hardest things anyone could ask of him. Anakin shifted so that Obi-Wan's leg touched his own, and grinned at him. "You remember what I promised you, right?"

Fond tolerance filled Obi-Wan's expression, the kind of look you give a child who tells you he's going to be Supreme Chancellor when he grows up — you don't necessarily believe it, but you like hearing it.

"You _are_ only human."

"Not _only_ human," said Anakin. Gently, he coiled a tendril of the Force no thicker than a nanosilk thread around each of Obi-Wan's wrists. Then, as quickly as he had summoned it, Anakin released his grip, letting it fade away. "If you need any help — I got you, Master."

Obi-Wan's eyes had widened, but he took a deep breath and nodded. He seemed to relax a little, but Irenia's watchful attention never left them, and it was time to move on. No point in letting Obi-Wan think for too long about feeling the touch of the Force.

"Should I expect excruciating pain, then?" asked Obi-Wan, as if that had been what Anakin meant. He redirected his own focus far more deftly than Anakin could ever hope to.

It had always frustrated Anakin as a padawan, how Obi-Wan seemed to just be able to just... not think about things if he didn't want to. Why did he get to have executive control of his thoughts, when Anakin's own mind always felt like it was about two minutes away from eating him alive? Now, he only felt profoundly relieved. Turning to Irenia, Anakin made a face like he didn't know the answer to Obi-Wan's question and was curious to find out.

Irenia was holding up her hands for Four-Eighteen to spray down with an aerosol disinfectant. She didn't move, touching nothing until Four-Eighteen produced two transparent membranes from a storage compartment in his midsection and draped them over each of her hands. The droid pinched a gray square in the corner of the membranes and they retracted, molding to Irenia and forming a flexible, sealed, skin-tight glove.

She picked up one of the hyposprays from the tray on the table, and pointed it at Obi-Wan. "Shirt off."

"She didn't answer," said Obi-Wan, pulling his shirt over his head. "That's usually a bad sign."

For a moment, all possible responses evaporated from Anakin's mind. He had seen Obi-Wan injured in countless ways, bleeding and broken, but he had never seen Obi-Wan's ribs standing out like that. It had been obvious that he was thin, but Anakin hadn't noticed before that it was this severe. His skin was pale and translucent, and the solid muscle Anakin was used to seeing had been replaced with hollows and sharp edges.

Anakin barely managed to bite back his dismay, but in the effort he lost the beat of the interaction. When he met Obi-Wan's eyes, his face was blank. Had Obi-Wan said something?

Irenia stepped up to the bed and pressed the hypospray against the line of Obi-Wan's upper back, below where neck and shoulder met. "You shouldn't feel anything but some localized numbness." She flicked the trigger box open with her thumb, and pressed it.

"Ow."

"And the needle, obviously."

 _Obviously_ , Obi-Wan mouthed, even though Anakin knew perfectly well that one injection was nothing to him.

"Now don't start whining," said Anakin.

"I don't _whine_."

"Okay, I'll give you that one. I would say it's more like you gripe."

They had started what might turn into a good round of ribbing, but then Irenia touched the rubber base of her sonic scalpel to Obi-Wan's shoulder, pushing on the skin just next to the the implant's interface. "Feel that?"

"Feel what?" said Obi-Wan.

"Be serious. If you can feel this, you're going to feel it when I cut you."

"I don't feel anything."

Irenia seemed satisfied, but Obi-Wan had turned his head to look at her and the scalpel she was holding above his shoulder. Very deliberately, his hands moved to grip the edge of the bed.

"Hey," said Anakin. He didn't have anything to say, but he needed Obi-Wan's attention on him and not the procedure.

"What?"

"Just wanted you to look at me."

Anakin tossed his hair, striking a pose, and Obi-Wan actually laughed. Anakin couldn't help beaming in response. Obi-Wan's open reactions filled him with warm delight, easily as energizing as the stim shot had been. It hadn't always been like that, had it? He remembered Obi-Wan's wry smiles and quiet amusement, but his master's laugh had been rare.

"What else should I tell you about?" he asked. "I've got some good horror stories about our extremely huge and cutting-edge medbay."

"I'll pass, thank you. What about—" A soft buzz interrupted, unnaturally harsh in the small room, when Irenia turned on the sonic scalpel. Obi-Wan took a long breath, but did not look. "What about _your_ favorite place? You told me about mine."

"Nah, that's privileged information," said Anakin. He could see Irenia make the first cut in his peripheral vision, but he kept his eyes on Obi-Wan's face. The anaesthetic had worked — Obi-Wan didn't react, except for the steady tension that was slowly pulling his body tight. "How about you tell _me_ when you get your memory back."

"That," said Obi-Wan, "is not very nice."

Moving even closer to stand between Obi-Wan's knees, Anakin freed one of his hands from its white-knuckled grip on the bed frame. He laced their fingers together, feeling the familiar calluses on Obi-Wan's palm, and smiled. "I'm not very nice. You'll figure that out too, Master."

"Wrong." Obi-Wan gripped his hand tightly. "You're _too_ nice. I already know."

Anakin swallowed, and didn't know what to say. This was not a situation in which he could afford to be at a loss for words.

"What about the second place, then?"

"Huh?"

"You said the planetarium was one of two places." Obi-Wan was keeping his breathing artificially even using a familiar meditation rhythm, but his face was set in a wince. Rigid strain showed in every one of his muscles.

"Right, yeah. The second place. It's called the Room of a Thousand Fountains," said Anakin. That got Obi-Wan's attention. "Guess how big it is."

"Big enough to fit a thousand fountains?"

"It's kriffing huge. I'm talking _ridiculously_ enormous."

The corner of Obi-Wan's mouth quirked. "Is 'ridiculously enormous' a specific measurement I should know about?"

 _Good_ , Anakin thought. He liked that expression a lot better. "I think there's something like seven stories. It's indoors, but it's like walking into a jungle. They probably have every kind of plant in the galaxy, and yeah, a ton of fountains. Probably more than a thousand. You can hear water everywhere you go in there, and you can't even tell where it's coming from half the time. It sounds like it's coming from everywhere."

"Seven stories," murmured Obi-Wan, sounding like he was trying to visualize it.

"I don't know if you've ever been to the Rotunda in the city center here, but it's probably as big as that whole place. There's a whole ecosystem in there — so much life you can almost feel it singing. There are trees taller than any building in this neighborhood, and in the middle of the room there's this huge waterfall and a pool it feeds into. That's where I'd usually find you, when I was looking for you."

Obi-Wan had closed his eyes, a little of the tension leaking away. Taking the chance to sneak a look at Irenia's progress, Anakin found her frustratingly still. HM-418 was shining a bright spotlight on Obi-Wan's shoulder, where Irenia had opened two even cuts, exposing the square-edged side of the implant's interface. Now, though, she was just standing there, holding a flat, circular device to Obi-Wan's back.

"If I didn't find you at the waterfall, though, I'd be in trouble," said Anakin, just talking now. He wouldn't be able to keep this up forever. Irenia needed to _get a move on_. "There are a million places to get lost in the Room of a Thousand Fountains. You could easily look for someone for hours and not find them. I always thought maybe you liked the plants mostly because your master liked plants — he was famous for his harmony with living things."

Finally, Irenia set aside the circular disk and switched out her sonic scalpel for a different tool. Anakin didn't recognize it, but its head attachment was obviously a nano-level one — much more precise than any sonic tool. As soon as she touched it to Obi-Wan's skin he flinched away hard, movement full of feral violence.

Irenia stopped instantly. "Pain?"

Eyes still squeezed shut, Obi-Wan shook his head. His free hand lifted to press hard against his temple, and his breathing had accelerated. Irenia still hesitated, looking from Anakin to Obi-Wan and then back. "Does anything hurt?" she asked again. "I need you to use words, Alpha."

"Ah—" said Obi-Wan. "Head."

This wasn't working.

Gripping the back of Obi-Wan's head, Anakin pulled him down to his shoulder, hiding his master's face in the crook of his neck. Obi-Wan's arms wrapped around Anakin's waist, hands finding Anakin's belt and clutching it like a lifeline. He pressed his forehead hard against Anakin's shoulder and breathed out, as sharp as a sob. Folding his master as close as he possibly could, Anakin held Obi-Wan and thought fiercely that he would _never_ let go.

"Hey," said Anakin again, keeping his hand curled protectively in Obi-Wan's hair like he could shield him from what his own body was doing. "Hey, we're right here, okay? Remember, I promised you I wouldn't let anything bad happen. I'm right here — there's _nothing_ that can hurt you."

Obi-Wan clung to Anakin and fought a silent war. The chip was telling him that he needed it, that he would die without it, inflaming all Obi-Wan's most primal instincts to fight and protect himself. Could he believe Anakin, when every nerve in his body was screaming of danger? This technology had been made specifically to control people against their will — was this too much to ask?

If anyone could do it, Obi-Wan could.

 _Don't seize_ , Anakin thought. _Don't let him seize_.

"Master, I won't let anything hurt you. There's nothing here that's going to hurt you," he promised and, like a sudden blaze of fire, _surrounded_ Obi-Wan in the Force. He couldn't touch his master's Force signature, so instead he filled the air around him, pushing safety and power and love against his skin. Maybe some subconscious part of Obi-Wan would be able to sense it. "If there was something trying to hurt you, I would be killing it right now. It would already be dead, Master. I'm always going to protect you, trust me, okay?"

Painfully, slowly, Obi-Wan dragged a nod across Anakin's shoulder.

Irenia stood just inches away, frozen and wary. Turning minutely to catch her eye, Anakin mouthed, _Go_. She recoiled a little, shaking her head. She had opened her mouth, no doubt to dispute, or say they should try again later, but Anakin was not open to negotiation.

Eyes narrowing, Anakin centered a hard knot of the Force between Irenia's shoulder blades and shoved.

She spun in surprise, finding no one behind her, and then turned back to Anakin, a kaleidoscope of emotion — fear, shock, rage — bursting around her. It was the smallest, most minimal use of the Force, but Irenia's face became stone. She looked at him like she was seeing him for the first time, and her eyes were icy with betrayal.

Anakin tilted his head meaningfully, and she stepped back to the bed. Stiff-jawed, she lifted the nano-tool and began an incision from the implant on Obi-Wan's shoulder down over his shoulder blade. At the first touch, Obi-Wan's body stiffened again and he tugged sharply where he had ahold of Anakin's belt.

"It's okay, Master. I'm right here, we're fine. I got you," Anakin murmured, running fingers through Obi-Wan's hair. He had attuned so carefully to Obi-Wan that he experienced every slight change like it was his own body. The moment Obi-Wan's hands started to shake, he felt it.

"Anakin," Obi-Wan whispered, hoarse. "I need you."

"I'm here," Anakin said again, and locked the Force around Obi-Wan's arms, immobilizing him.

If Obi-Wan had access to the Force he might have been able to fight the hold, but even then it wasn't guaranteed that he would have been able to break free. Anakin had always been strong. He winced as Obi-Wan strained against the invisible restraint, but then felt Obi-Wan relax. A soft sigh puffed against his skin.

"Okay?" he asked.

Obi-Wan didn't respond, and Anakin concentrated on filling the Force with all the calm serenity he could possibly summon. He took a deep breath, wondering how long either of them could keep this up.

Then the galaxy detonated inside Anakin's head.

He reeled, for blinding moments stripped from his body and drowned in a torrent of foreign sensation. Memories that were not his own tumbled one after the other. Screams. A ragged clone voice gasping in his ear, " _General — go!"_ He was dragged through Jabiim in out-of-order flashes, then places he didn't recognize except through Obi-Wan's impressions. The thought _I need to pull back_ lasted for an instant before it was overwhelmed and swept away. Anakin tried to dig in, get a grip on something, anything, but the flood was too strong.

A memory lingered for a beat, filling all of his senses like he was drowning in it. Only a moment, but Anakin had time to recognize that he was looking at _himself_ in a bed — the Halls of Healing. His eyes were closed, dramatic dark circles hollowing the space under them, and the empty stump of his right hand lay on top of the blanket. The ache of sorrow and horror that accompanied this stunned Anakin as Obi-Wan's recollections overpowered his own. He could remember a time when he would have denied that his master was capable of feeling anything so strongly.

He remembered waking up in that same bed, finding Obi-Wan sitting beside him. He had discovered his prosthetic, and rediscovered his mother's death. He remembered screaming at Obi-Wan, crying in his arms. Anakin would never forget that day.

It was enough to kick him out of the feedback loop.

Returning to his body again, the second time in several hours, was a painful process. His master was shaking in his arms, face still buried in Anakin's neck, hands snarled so tightly in the back of Anakin's tunic that he was pretty sure it was about to rip. Obi-Wan's mind was the maelstrom Anakin had just escaped from.

"Sith," he said. It was all he had time for before he went back in.

Dropping his forehead against Obi-Wan's hair, Anakin closed his eyes. This time, instead of diving right into the middle of the meltdown like he'd done before, he sank into the greater Force. Like an inhaled breath, Anakin gathered its light and strength to himself, and searched for the familiar path in to Obi-Wan. For all the countless times they had meditated together, all the time they'd spent living side by side, Anakin had never experienced the full power of Obi-Wan's connection to the Force.

It was kriffing blinding.

It took far longer than it should have to locate the frayed pathway of their training bond, despite (or perhaps because of) the fact that Obi-Wan was completely unshielded. As soon as Anakin touched it the bond _ignited_ , as if it resented having been so prematurely cut. The ripple created in the chaos by the bond was minor, but enough to give Anakin a foothold.

In a moment, he rallied all his focus, and thought about safety.

Anakin pressing images and feelings through the bond. He thought about Dex's and the last time he'd been there with Obi-Wan before the war started, about his work room at the Temple and the comforting sprawl of droid parts. He dusted off old memories of crawling into Obi-Wan's bed as a child after a nightmare, and focused on the feeling of landing a speeder on Padme's balcony after months of deployment. Anakin knew it was working when Obi-Wan began to help him, adding memories of the Room of a Thousand Fountains, someone's strong hand guiding his own on a practice 'saber, and a surprising one that seemed to be teenaged Anakin sound asleep on Obi-Wan's shoulder.

The storm had quieted somewhat, but Anakin could still sense the twisting fractures in Obi-Wan's Force signature. At the very least, he would need hours upon hours of meditation, and to rebuild his destroyed shields from the ground up. That would come later, though. Now that he'd coaxed Obi-Wan to focus on him, open to him, Anakin concentrated on offering him a tempting sleep suggestion.

A skilled healer could do this without a bond and with an unwilling subject. Anakin was not a skilled healer.

He held his breath when Obi-Wan briefly fought — because Obi-Wan always had to fight — but his master was halfway to being catatonic already. Obi-Wan's hands slipped from Anakin's tunic as his traumatized brain yielded to the urge to shut down for a while, and relief dragged out of Anakin in the form of a sigh. It was simple, from there, to deepen the sleep a little more.

Suddenly exhausted himself, Anakin dropped a kiss on top of Obi-Wan's head. His hair was mussed and damp with sweat. "Nothing is ever easy with you, is it?"

Unconscious, of course Obi-Wan didn't answer, but the bond glowed with steady warmth between them even as Anakin pulled away, disentangling himself from his master's mind and retreating back behind his own shields. The distance returned Anakin's awareness of the rest of the Force, and that was when he remembered Irenia.

She stood several paces back from the table, face white and eyes dark with alarm. Her right hand still clutched the nano-tool.

"Uh," said Anakin, finding his voice raw and hoarse, "you wanna finish taking it out now?"

"Is he—"

"He's fine. Well, he'll be fine."

Irenia moved closer and carefully checked Obi-Wan's pulse anyway. "Did he seize?" she asked, still calm and matter-of-fact despite the intensity Anakin could sense behind her doctor's mask.

"No. He— Well. I did something stupid."

Anakin wasn't sure how to explain that not only had he not been prepared for the backlash reconnecting to the Force after more than a year would cause. He had also been recklessly smothering Obi-Wan so closely that he had accidentally been caught in it when the dam broke, and nearly unable to help himself, much less Obi-Wan. He was glad that Irenia wasn't a Force sensitive, or she would no doubt have something to say about his truly incredible lack of forethought.

"I didn't think about the psychic effect of releasing something that was suppressed for so long. The Force — it felt like a bomb went off." He tried to shrug, knowing she couldn't understand, but he was still holding Obi-Wan and it didn't really work.

Expressionless, Irenia asked, "Are you all right?"

"What?"

Her eyebrows arched, and she gestured at his face. When Anakin managed to free a hand — his real one — he touched his cheeks and found them damp with tears he didn't remember shedding. Scrubbing briefly at his face, he said, "Uh. Yeah. I'm fine."

Irenia looked at him for a long moment, and then at Obi-Wan. Very obviously, she folded everything away and refocused. Two bright spots of tension appeared on her cheeks and she took a deep breath, declaring, "I'm not doing this."

"Doing what?"

"This isn't safe. We need to find another way to deactivate the implant." Pointedly, she dropped the nano-tool back onto the tray. Anakin could taste her fear in the Force, but what was she afraid of? He didn't even know what she was talking about. "You can do what you want to me, but I can't continue the procedure under these conditions. If trying to deactivate the implant once caused a reaction like that—"

"The chip is already deactivated. It's dead," said Anakin, frowning. "All you have to do is remove the hardware."

There was a pause where Irenia's mouth opened a little, but no words came out. She blinked and, even though she was bright with emotion in the Force, still managed to give no outward sign of anything but mild surprise. "It worked?"

"Yup."

Softly, she asked, "He remembers?"

Anakin nodded, Obi-Wan's hair tickling his chin. "Yeah. He'll sleep, and then wake up, and when he wakes up he'll be himself."

There was nothing else to say.

The silence was a shadowy weight bearing down on Irenia's shoulders, growing steadily heavier as she worked. Her movements were automatic but fitful as she removed the implant's hardware, reminding Anakin of the way droids acted when their joints needed oiling. After being deactivated, the implant itself was easy to extract; according to Neo's readout, it could be made to self-disengage, so that it could be reused on another slave if the first slave died.

Thrifty, those Zygerrians.

Anakin rested his head on top of Obi-Wan's and closed his eyes as he waited. While Irenia sprayed dermaseal over Obi-Wan's incisions and then covered them with a bandage, Anakin drifted in the Force.

For the first time in a long, long time, his bond with Obi-Wan was burning there in its place, alive and glowing with their connection. Anakin had thought he'd never feel that again, and the temptation to bask there was almost impossible to resist. For once, though, Anakin stayed inside his own mind. With everything that had already happened today, it wouldn't be smart to start pushing himself into delicate places. Besides, Obi-Wan wasn't exactly in great shape either.

He slept, but not like a Jedi.

Part of the mind's natural self-organization, as babies grew and learned what it was to be a person, was the unconscious erection of Force shields. As a baby learned about itself as an individual being, separate from other beings, that understanding began to create natural barriers as a part of the mind's inherent structure. Even animals had some level of natural Force shielding, and non-Force-sensitives had them in varying strengths, depending on the person.

Jedi took this to another level, learning a control over their own connection to the greater universe that other beings could never achieve, through the lowering or strengthening of various types of Force shields.

Different Jedi kept different habitual levels of shielding and usually, Obi-Wan's had been on the stronger end of the scale. Anakin had always been able to sense spillover of his master's thoughts and feelings through their bond, but anyone without a bond would not have been able to sense much that Obi-Wan wasn't allowing them to. Even during sleep, it had been normal for Anakin to feel little more than Obi-Wan's peaceful presence in the other room.

Now, it was like Obi-Wan had no shields at all.

Anakin didn't have much experience with babies, but he guessed that this unformed, nebulous give-and-take might be similar to how a Force-sensitive newborn might interact with the energies of their surroundings. As Obi-Wan slept, a soft eddy of sensation and feeling flowed from him into the Force, and he had no defenses against the influence of others. Already, his quiet glow was darkening, disturbed by the tendrils of anxiety Irenia was giving off.

Absently, Anakin warded those away.

It couldn't have been easy, being cut off from both the Force and his identity for so long. The reintegration had certainly been violent. Obi-Wan would have a lot of rebuilding to do.

"Done," said Irenia, flat and weary.

Anakin blinked at her and then nodded. For a moment, he just held Obi-Wan, feeling his master's steady, even breathing. He didn't want to let go. Tracing the bond, warm and strong in the back of his mind, Anakin realized that he didn't have to. Nothing could take Obi-Wan from him now.

Gently, holding Obi-Wan's head, he stepped back and lowered his master's body down onto the bed. Anakin looked for Obi-Wan's familiar scars — the newer lines on his arms, neck, and under his chin from Ventress, and the many older ones from other places — convincing himself that even though Obi-Wan looked gray and small against the white sheets, his breathing was regular and the life inside him was strong. He was whole. He would heal.

Anakin gave Obi-Wan's hand one last squeeze, and then let go.


	15. Territorial Disputes

"How long will he sleep?" Irenia asked.

"I'm not sure," Anakin said. At the Temple, they would have put Obi-Wan into a healing trance, but Anakin was absolutely not going to attempt that. "It could be hours, or days."

"And when he wakes up?"

Anakin shrugged. "He's fine, physically. His memories are there. The only thing I'm not sure about is the Force implications of what he's been through, but they'll be able to take care of him at the Jedi Temple."

" _If_ that's what he wants."

That wasn't really worth dignifying with an answer, so Anakin didn't. Irenia pressed a hand to her temple and let out a sigh that sounded like it came from the very tips of her toes. "Four-Eighteen, please move Alpha to one of the non-intensive care rooms. I think Blue Wing has some empty beds. Give him fluids and monitor his vital signs."

"I will do that immediately, Doctor Mazaar," said the droid.

Four-Eighteen moved the bed toward the door, and Anakin followed Obi-Wan automatically for a few steps before pausing. He needed to comm— everyone. Master Plo specifically. They had to change all their plans. The thought was suddenly exhausting. But it would probably be better not to have that conversation in the room with Obi-Wan and risk waking him.

Anakin let them leave, but tracked Obi-Wan in the bond even as he moved further away, like keeping one hand securely on your credit pouch in a shifting crowd.

As Anakin searched for his comm among the unreasonably numerous pockets on his utility belt, Irenia pressed her hands together in front of her face. She covered her mouth and nose, and just breathed into the tiny space for a long moment. Finally, she said, "I shouldn't have done that."

"What?" Anakin found his comm, finally. He had a couple messages from Ahsoka, but they were just time updates. No one had pinged him with any diatribes about his irresponsible absence yet.

"I shouldn't have done that," Irenia repeated, louder. "We should have found another way."

When Anakin looked up, he found her carefully built screen of composure in the midst of collapse. Everything she had kept back and pushed away to focus during the emergency was now threatening to overwhelm her. "It worked," he said simply.

"It was wrong! It was _his_ choice, not ours. I shouldn't have taken that away."

"When he wakes up, he'll thank you."

Irenia made a scoffing noise.

"Sometimes," said Anakin, "people need help to make the right choice."

"Oh, yes, and I suppose you always know what the right choice is. How kind of you, to help out like that." Her eyes were full of cold rage. "How old are you anyway? Twenty-five at the most? And yet you know everything worth knowing in the whole galaxy."

"I have much still to learn. But I know that leaving that implant in would have been wrong."

"Not giving Alpha a _choice_ was wrong! Not giving _me_ — And about that— How dare you threaten me? I thought the Jedi were supposed to be protectors, not thugs! But I suppose you were just helping _me_ to make the right choice?"

"Yes," retorted Anakin, angry now. "I was, actually!"

"What gives you the right to act like the king of the kriffing galaxy! You're not going to give him a choice about whether to go with you to Coruscant, either, are you?"

"Obi-Wan can do whatever the hell he wants! But if that's what you're upset about, you'd better get used to it, because for him there _is_ no choice. Trust me."

"If you truly care about him, you wouldn't force him—"

"I'm not forcing anyone into anything. I just know Obi-Wan," said Anakin, "and you _don't_."

She pressed her hand over her mouth, unable to speak. Forcing his shoulders to relax, Anakin expelled his crackling aggression into the Force with a harsh exhale. Why was he wasting energy on this?

Coldly, Anakin said, "Excuse me. I have arrangements to make."

He left and Irenia, tears in her eyes, stood alone in an empty room.

Anakin found Obi-Wan again easily — he was not far away, and the bond led him there like a homing beacon.

He had been transferred into a proper, bigger bed in a vacant room, and Four-Eighteen was able to tell Anakin that all his vital signs were within normal ranges. Satisfied that all was well, Anakin stepped out again. There was a small waiting room outside, essentially just two benches set into the wall, and no one was there, so Anakin took the opportunity to sit down for a minute. He leaned his head back against the wall, and closed his eyes.

He kept going back over the things Irenia had said to him, and new anger welled up each time just as fast as he could release it to the Force. She had no idea what she was talking about. She had practically called him as bad as Ventress! Ridiculous. Everything Anakin did, he did so that Obi-Wan could be healthy. So that Obi-Wan could be safe. Ventress had only ever meant to harm and destroy — there was no comparison! Digging through the conversation again and again was pointless, and he _knew_ it was pointless, but the mental loop was difficult to escape.

 _Stop it_ , he told himself. _Just stop._

Anakin couldn't outrun the knowledge that he was tired anymore.

Obi-Wan was safe, and the constant thrumming momentum that had kept him moving up until now was about to run out. If Neo was right, he was about to hit a wall, and hit it very hard. He had one thing he had to do before that happened, but Anakin didn't want to do it.

He wanted Padme.

She was the one person he wanted to share the news with first. Padme would be so happy to hear that Obi-Wan was alive; Anakin knew she would enter into his joy so fully that it would become her own. He ached to comm her, to hear her voice and know that he could relax, but that was impossible. He had a lot of other people to talk to first.

Lifting his comm, Anakin clicked it on and set it to page Master Plo.

Several long minutes passed before any answer came.

"Skywalker?" Master Plo's deep rumble startled Anakin out of the shallow daze he had drifted into. "My apologies, I was warned to expect a high-priority communication from you, but we just concluded the public announcement of our troop withdrawal."

"No worries, Master."

"I am sure your absence greatly disappointed many HoloNet journalists. Should I assume you have something to report?"

Anakin sat up, double-checking on his bond with Obi-Wan just in case, and then said, "Yes, I do. Master Plo, I discovered that Obi-Wan is alive."

Absolute silence filled the comm line.

In the background, Ahsoka's faint voice could be heard. "Uh oh, I think he's finally cracked. Commander Neo told us it was going to happen."

"Please repeat that? I'm not sure the message came through fully," said Master Plo.

Anakin sighed. "Obi-Wan Kenobi, my former master, missing in action and presumed dead at the beginning of the war, is _not_ dead. He's alive, and he's here on Centares. And no, Ahsoka, I'm not cracked. Not yet, anyway."

"Anakin, when did you discover this?"

"Yesterday, during the sweep for that traitor."

"Why didn't you call it in immediately?"

"It's... complicated," said Anakin. "He had amnesia, Master Plo. He didn't remember being a Jedi."

"Had?"

"Yeah. Like I said — complicated. Some medical stuff happened. I think his memory is back, but he's unconscious and hasn't woken up yet. I'm sending you my coordinates."

"I'm on my way," Master Plo said instantly, and signed off before Anakin even sent the coordinates.

He set his comm to ping his location, and went to wait for them outside the front of the clinic. Leaning up against the wall, he watched the uneven traffic of people going in and out of the clinic, and the speeders driving by. He had expected Master Plo to arrive in some kind of native Centares vehicle like he had used, so Anakin was taken aback when a LAAT/i decided to land in the middle of the street.

All speeder traffic ground to a halt as the road was blocked, people stopping and staring in alarm at the massive gunship descending into a space definitely _not_ meant to accommodate massive gunships. One mother, just coming out of the clinic, took one look at the LAAT/i, grabbed her child's hand, and ran back in.

The bay door slid open, and Master Plo stepped out of the ship. Anakin had meant to ask him not to bring Ahsoka, but he'd forgotten during the comm call, so she had obviously tagged along as well. Ahsoka made a beeline straight for Anakin, ignoring the fact that everyone on the block was silently staring at them, while Master Plo gave the growing clusters of spectators a casual wave. The LAAT/i lifted off again, spiraling theatrically into the air before rocketing off at an almost certainly unnecessary speed.

Anakin, an expert on the subject, was sure the pilot was having way too much fun.

"So, uh, I guess keeping a low profile is out?"

"Bold words from the guy who blew up an asteroid this morning," said Ahsoka.

" _I_ drove a speeder bike here. You know, like a _normal_ person."

"We prioritized speed," said Master Plo.

From across the street, a Pantoran girl cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled, "ARE YOU ANAKIN SKYWALKER?" before being promptly strangled by her embarrassed friend.

Sighing, Anakin waved at her. "Let's go inside."

"Before they start asking you for autographs." Ahsoka smirked, but followed him as closely as his own shadow. She stuck by his side, Master Plo following a few steps behind, and looked up at him. In a careful murmur, she asked, "Did you really find Obi-Wan Kenobi?"

"Yeah, I really did." Anakin gave her a tired half grin and Ahsoka smiled back, banked energy animating even the air around her.

"You okay?"

"Honestly I'm wiped out, Snips," Anakin admitted. He stopped when they were back in the small waiting area and gestured at the door to Obi-Wan's room. "He's in there, sleeping. It was this slave implant, suppressing his memories the whole time. Ventress — we thought he was killed, but she captured him."

"Ventress was _here_?" Ahsoka's hand dropped to her 'saber. "We thought she was on the run from Dooku!"

"What? No, this was back when I was a padawan. Why would Ventress be running from Dooku?"

"We received an intelligence report a few hours ago. Our suspicions of infighting among the Separatists were correct. Their forces are massed over Dathomir, engaging in what seems to be some kind of conflict between Ventress and Grievous," explained Master Plo.

"So Ventress _is_ no longer a Sep."

Disappointing. Anakin had been looking forward to killing her the next time they met.

"It's really too soon to know what the outcome will be, or how long the infighting will last, which is why moving out as per our current orders is somewhat urgent. Perhaps, Anakin," said Master Plo gently. "You could start by explaining what happened yesterday."

"Yeah. Right." Anakin shook himself a little. Focus. "So. After I captured that consular, I sensed something weird in the market—"

Haltingly, piece by piece, Anakin explained how he had found Obi-Wan, about his missing memories, and the implant. Master Plo and Ahsoka listened carefully, Ahsoka clearly mentally fitting each detail of his story to his odd behavior over the past days. He described his theory about what Ventress had done to Obi-Wan, and then the psychic repercussions Obi-Wan had experienced when the chip was taken out.

"He was cut off from the Force this _whole_ time?" Ahsoka asked, quietly horrified.

"As far as I could tell. I couldn't sense him at all, no more than I could a droid."

Master Plo crossed his arms in thought. "You are concerned that he may suffer some serious negative effects?"

"I have no idea." Anakin shrugged. "I know the blowback was dramatic. After spending so long with that implant messing with everything, I'd be surprised if he just jumped up like it never happened, wouldn't you? I want to take him to the Temple as soon as possible."

"I agree."

Someone cleared their throat, a presence Anakin hadn't noticed suddenly intruding on his sluggish senses, and Master Plo turned pleasantly to the man who had joined them in the small waiting room. "Hello," said the man. He was maybe ten years older than Obi-Wan, dark-haired, and looked vaguely familiar. Had Anakin seen him before in the hallways on the way in? "You must be the Jedi that just landed? My name is Arthalan Rho. I'm a doctor here at the clinic."

Master Plo and Ahsoka bowed, Anakin just a beat behind them. He knew he had seen this man before.

"So our Alpha is a Jedi? That's something none of us ever expected to hear, I'm sure. What good news, that Irenia was able to treat his memory loss after all!" Rho smiled and Anakin, still stuck on racking his brain, felt it when Ahsoka's instincts turned suspicious. "He has been a very good friend — I can't wait to congratulate him once he's awake."

"Oh," Anakin said. "I saw you last night. With that kid."

He turned his blandly cordial expression toward Anakin. "Hm? Yes, I think we may have run into each other outside the clinic. I don't think I caught your name?"

"Irenia sent you."

" _Sent_ me? What for?" Roh raised an eyebrow.

There was seemingly no filter left between Anakin's thoughts and his mouth. Before he could even run the decision through any kind of quality control, he had blurted, "To stop us from leaving."

"Of course not. I know you will have to leave once Alpha awakens. The war obviously doesn't wait."

"No, it doesn't," said Master Plo. "In fact, we are deploying within the hour."

"Oh. With Alpha?"

Roh's face showed a heavy-handed facsimile of surprise, and Anakin's hands clenched into fists. He thought he was going to manipulate them, force them to accommodate his agenda? This guy could never even keep up with a real negotiator — Obi-Wan would run circles around him.

"There is no reason to wait. The Grand Army of the Republic is fully able to provide any necessary medical attention to an equal or greater standard than what Centares can offer."

Ahsoka subtly reached out for Anakin, wrapping her fingers around the wrist of his durasteel hand. He turned to look at her, confused, and she offered him an encouraging prod in the Force, which was stained with dark splashes of anger. Anakin blinked. Were those coming from him?

"I'm afraid that won't be possible. Until Alpha is stabilized and conscious, we can't clear him to travel."

"Kriff your clearance," said Anakin.

Ahsoka's hand tightened around his wrist, and Master Plo glanced at him with displeasure. What? They didn't need anybody's authority to do anything. They were Jedi, and this planet was under Republic military authority.

Roh ignored him, addressing Master Plo. "Surely, Master Jedi, you can understand that, until Alpha awakens, we have only your word that he is one of you at all. This clinic has no claim over your actions, but the government of Centares does. This planet is a free, independent, democratic world — it wouldn't do any good to the Republic's reputation if the Jedi were to be seen abducting residents of Muracie against their will."

"Free and kriffing independent because of _me_ ," Anakin snarled. "Otherwise you'd be _free_ as a damn firebird to watch your planet choke to death under Separatist occupation."

"Your entrance to this neighborhood already caused quite the commotion," said Roh, as if Anakin hadn't spoken at all. "I doubt it would take very much more to get the attention of the media."

"Well, fierfek." Anakin shook his hand free of Ahsoka's grip, crossing his arms and turning to Master Plo sarcastically. Roh was in _way_ over his head if he thought he could scare them with oblique threats. "Too bad we missed one of the Sep comm stations in our sweep, but I guess it's good we haven't left yet. Who would have suspected this clinic of being a front for traitors?"

That shattered Roh's false calm. "How _dare_ you—"

"Knight Skywalker," said Master Plo, "you will restrain yourself, or you will remove yourself from this discussion."

Anakin did not intend to do either of those things.

"Master," Ahsoka interjected, tugging urgently on his sleeve. "Hey, Master, why don't we go see Obi-Wan?"

"Ahsoka—"

"Come on, don't you want to see him?"

Like an ancient, rusted machine, Anakin's brain turned over very slowly, probably accompanied by some unpleasant screeching noises and a lot of smoke.

Input: Obi-Wan?

Output: Of course. Yes.

Input: Leave this conversation?

Output: Um... no.

"Please, Master?" Ahsoka begged, looking quickly from him to Master Plo and back again. "We should make sure he's okay, don't you think?"

Was Obi-Wan not okay? Ahsoka pulled on his tunic again, and Anakin followed her.

The walk to the door of Obi-Wan's room seemed to require an enormous feat of dexterity, and Anakin concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. Ahsoka punched the door release and then waited for him, worry painting her gray in the Force. When he reached her, she pulled his arm around her shoulders and wrapped her own arm around his waist.

"There," she said.

It _was_ easier to walk like this.

Four-Eighteen was still in Obi-Wan's room, activating from dormancy when his motion sensors detected their presence. When the door swished shut behind them, a dusky silence seemed to cut them off from the rest of the galaxy. Here the light was soft and ambient, given off by a glowing line that ran along the base of each wall — dim enough to not bother any recovering patients, while still allowing doctors to see.

Obi-Wan lay on his back in the large bed, head turned to the side and hair haphazardly disarrayed. As they approached, Anakin let go of Ahsoka and instead steadied himself with his hands on the bed. The vague thought that it was good Obi-Wan was still asleep surfaced in his mind. He would have hated being looked at like this. As Anakin watched, his master's eyelids fluttered and he moved slightly, arching his neck as though trying to escape an unpleasant sensation.

"His sleep is troubled," Ahsoka whispered.

"Yeah. This place is full of people. I've been trying to keep up a shield..."

"Actually, I think it's you, Skyguy."

"Me?" Anakin hadn't thought to try to shield Obi-Wan from _himself_.

"Yeah, you said he's totally unshielded, right? You need to damp down your power core if you're going to get angry like that."

Anakin nodded, and then was overpowered by a jaw-cracking yawn.

Shaking her head, Ahsoka said, "What am I saying? You're about to keel over. What you need to do is sleep."

This, Anakin had to admit, was also very true.

"Well, if we're going to be here for a while, I'll go see if they can find another bed to bring in here. You don't want to go back to HQ to sleep, do you?"

"I'm not leaving Obi-Wan."

"That's what I thought. I'm not even sure you could make it all the way back anyway," Ahsoka muttered to herself. "Wait here, okay, Master? I'm going to find another bed, or at least a chair or something."

Again, Anakin nodded, only vaguely absorbing what she was saying. He was listening to the indistinct purrs of thought and sensation that Obi-Wan's sleeping mind gave off. He wasn't exactly dreaming, but Anakin could sense imprints of situations and images drifting through his consciousness. They were like the shapes left behind by something pressed against a misted glass — oddly inverse and fragmented, but still distinctly there. He thought he might recognize a few of them, but most were completely foreign.

Anakin knew his master better than anyone alive, and yet in the months immediately following Obi-Wan's death, he had wondered whether he had known Obi-Wan at all. Obi-Wan had always kept so much to himself. When he died, Anakin had met Jedi he'd never seen before who called themselves Obi-Wan's lifelong friends. Had Obi-Wan meant to keep secrets too, or did it just not occur to him to share things like that with his padawan?

What would Anakin do if Obi-Wan woke up, and still didn't recognize him?

"Master," said Anakin, just to say it. He was so tired.

Anakin fought to keep his body from drooping. He had to wait for Ahsoka, who was— wait. Had she said she was going to get a bed? Why would she do that? There was a perfectly good bed right here already, and it was obviously big enough.

He squinted, thinking hard, and finally decided that Ahsoka must have been confused.

Slowly, Anakin managed to keep one hand on the mattress, reach down to pull his boot off with the other, and also not fall down. The other boot was more of a struggle, not wanting to let go of his foot for some reason, but it had to be done. Obi-Wan _hated_ it when he wore shoes on the bed. Finally, after many fumbles, he succeeded and both boots lay toppled on the floor.

"Four-Eighteen, do you think you could line up my boots?"

"That is not my function. I am an HM Medical Assistant Unit, not a housekeeping droid."

"Please?"

The droid wasn't programmed to be able to sigh, but it might as well have been. "...Fine."

"Thanks." Anakin yawned again and climbed up onto the bed, mumbling, "Scoot over, Master."

Obi-Wan was under the blankets, but that seemed like a lot of unnecessary effort to Anakin. Digging in on his side next to Obi-Wan, Anakin sprawled easily. One of his legs covered one of Obi-Wan's, and he wrapped his left arm over Obi-Wan's chest. A surefire way to get warm, even without blankets, Anakin remembered from his childhood.

The last time he had done this, he'd been a lot smaller, but that was okay. His head still fit just right under Obi-Wan's chin, tucked between neck and shoulder. The implant bandage scratched at Anakin's cheek, but Obi-Wan didn't seem to mind. He didn't awaken — if anything, his sleep deepened when Anakin relaxed into their bond and closed his eyes. The hazy churn of Obi-Wan's mind slowed, and Anakin felt the liquid warmth of their connection fill every inch of him like internal sunlight.

 _Force shielding is overrated anyway_ , Anakin thought, and then dropped over a steep cliff into unconsciousness.


	16. Emotion Yet Peace

Anakin awoke to the sensation of hands in his hair and fond irritation in the Force.

"Anakin."

He shied away from the shred of consciousness threatening to break in on him, absolutely certain that it was not, in any possible galaxy, time to get up yet.

"Anakin." It was his master's scratchy morning voice, too slow and warm to be really awake yet either. "Can you move? I'm hot."

Yeah, maybe Obi-Wan was hot because he took all the covers again. Anakin turned his face into Obi-Wan's neck and made a noise of displeasure. Something was digging uncomfortably into his hip — had he somehow forgotten to take off his clothes last night? Anakin's head throbbed, a dull, all-encompassing ache that made it seem like the whole world was pressing down on him, and his eyes felt hot and swollen. He wasn't sure he could open them if he tried.

He hadn't gotten _drunk_ , had he?

"Fifteen more minutes," Anakin groaned.

" _Ana_ kin," said Obi-Wan, and a burst of pressure as distinct as the sound of his name spiraled through the bond. Usually, Obi-Wan would tug on his padawan braid too right about now, but he didn't. Unfortunately, that didn't work so well with Ahsoka, since her beads weren't actually attached to her head.

 _His padawan braid?_

Anakin was suddenly, absolutely awake.

He flipped over and sat bolt upright in a move that left him disoriented, blinking clouded and tender eyes in the dim light. The room was gray and featureless, except for some medical monitors and his boots neatly lined up by the door. The clinic. Centares. Amnesia. Why was he in Obi-Wan's bed? How long had he slept? Turning onto his knees, Anakin found Obi-Wan squinting up at him in bleary confusion.

Rubbing at his own eyes, Obi-Wan asked, "Did you have a nightmare?"

"Huh?"

"Can't think of any other reason you would invade my room."

Obi-Wan pushed up on his elbows, expression trying for a mock-irritated pinch, but too sleepy to totally pull it off. His hair fell in a messy screen over his forehead and his eyes were the brightest thing in the room. Anakin's mouth opened, but he had already forgotten how to speak.

"Are you—?" Obi-Wan sat up, pushing the blankets away, but then paused.

He was looking at Anakin, frown growing steadily, but Anakin felt most of his focus on reaching out in the Force. Instead of trying to push past Anakin's purposefully expanded Force presence, he was reaching _for_ Anakin. Head tilted slightly, Obi-Wan stared at his face as if he were waiting for a grainy holo to finally resolve itself and become clear.

When the Force didn't yield the answers he needed, Obi-Wan reached out and very carefully took Anakin's head between his hands. All the air left Anakin's lungs in a rush and he was suspended in time, frozen and breathless, while Obi-Wan studied him. He traced the lines of Anakin's face with his fingers, running a thumb down the long scar bisecting Anakin's right eyebrow. He touched Anakin's hair, darker and wavier now that it was grown out. His earnest focus never wavered, and Anakin blinked hard, feeling his eyes start to sting.

"Oh," said Obi-Wan sadly, fingers going to the lock of hair behind Anakin's right ear, where his padawan braid had been. "I wanted to cut this."

 _I wanted that too_ , Anakin would have said, but he couldn't because he was crying.

Hot tears burned his eyes, and Obi-Wan's hands fell to his shoulders, pulling him in. Obi-Wan held him tight and safe, the way he had countless times before when Anakin was young, the way Anakin had held _him_ just hours ago. Hiding his face against Obi-Wan's hair, Anakin let himself break into pieces.

Day after day precariously stacked on month after month of hard-fought discipline and self-control all came crashing down in a torrent. Relief so sharp that it hurt lodged in Anakin's chest and choked him with sobs. He cried for every day he'd missed Obi-Wan, and for how much he loved him. He cried for everyone he still missed and the failures he regretted — his mother, the men lost on Umbara.

Anakin cried because he couldn't help it.

He had grieved for so long, Obi-Wan's loss one of the biggest wounds on his heart. He had tried as hard as he could to live with the pain, to heal the way he knew he should, to treasure his memories of Obi-Wan but to not injure himself over and over by trying to hold on to what was already gone. All this, and now Obi-Wan was _here_ , alive and well and touching his face like he was something precious—

Anakin re-lived everything, as if Jabiim had been days ago instead of years. Piercing joy mixed with every one of his old emotions and ripped him open. It was too much, far too much to hold, and so Anakin didn't try. He let it blaze through him like a solar flare, scorching him raw, and then fading away. For a long time he could only shake in Obi-Wan's arms, overwhelmed.

When the painful convulsions had mostly subsided, giving way to soft gasps, Obi-Wan murmured, "Are you all right?"

"Yeah," Anakin rasped. He hated this — he always felt worse, afterward, like he had to build himself back up from shattered fragments. He dropped his head to rest on Obi-Wan's shoulder. "I'm good."

"I don't— Jabiim? You were alone, I didn't— But you're safe." Obi-Wan wrapped a hand around the back of Anakin's neck, and then stroked down over the shape of Anakin's shoulders, like he had to confirm this for himself.

"Yeah," said Anakin, closing his eyes.

He could feel his master's uncertainty, as Obi-Wan tried to make sense of his chaotic mess of memories. Scrubbing at his face, he pulled himself back up into a sitting position. Anakin's head pounded even worse now, what had started as a blunt throb blossoming into the kind of vicious headache that felt like it was trying to split his skull. His face was red and moisture-streaked, eyes puffy and painful.

Crying was awesome.

Anakin rubbed his sleeve across his face, drying it and then continuing to scrape his skin with the thick fabric until Obi-Wan caught his arm.

"You're making it worse."

Clearing his throat, Anakin allowed Obi-Wan to gentle both his hands, pushing waves of warm calm at him over the bond. It was much fainter than he remembered, Obi-Wan having to grapple hard for even that much control over the Force, and Anakin gave him a tiny grin. "I'm okay, Master. Really."

"You're different. Something is wrong... What happened, Anakin?"

"You remember Jabiim," Anakin said, half a question.

Slowly, Obi-Wan nodded once.

"And after?"

"No."

The answer came too fast. Anakin hesitated, but Obi-Wan's mind was completely open to him, and he had felt the unthinking, whiplash reaction behind the response. The implant wasn't controlling him anymore, so this strange catch was worrying. "What _do_ you remember?"

Obi-Wan's expression had hinted at a barely-there frown since he'd fully awakened and, as he considered the question, it deepened. "I remember being... lost."

"Lost?"

"I couldn't find the way back," said Obi-Wan, like that made things any clearer. "I missed you."

Those words lodged in Anakin's chest like shrapnel, and the swell of tangled emotion made him want to hide his face again. As much as it threatened Anakin's already-taxed composure to hear Obi-Wan say that, it was also a sign that he still wasn't firing on all cylinders. He wouldn't be talking like that unless he was still very much out of it.

"I missed you too, Master. A lot." Anakin's voice caught, and he cleared his throat again. He didn't want to push Obi-Wan — he had only really been himself for a few minutes, after all — but he felt he had to. If something was still very wrong, better to know immediately. "Do you remember at all when you were captured?"

Tension tightened around Obi-Wan's eyes, and he lifted a hand to his chin. It wasn't his normal thoughtful mannerism. After a second, Anakin realized that Obi-Wan was digging his thumb into the raised scars under his jaw.

"I— survived. I needed to survive."

"Why?"

"You were alone," said Obi-Wan, looking at him. The strained line of his frown did not ease. "She told me you were dead. But you're safe— You're a Jedi Knight. Aren't you?"

Swallowing, Anakin nodded.

"Was I lost for so many years?"

"A year and a half."

"You didn't need me after all," Obi-Wan said. His half-smile made Anakin's heart drop.

"You're wrong, Master. I _always_ need you."

"No, it's— I'm glad. I was worried, but. Look at you."

Anakin didn't know what Obi-Wan meant by that, partially because Obi-Wan's swirling thoughts were equally unsure on the subject. Concerned, Anakin asked softly, "Hey, are you okay?"

"Yes." That answer was a reflex too. Obi-Wan tilted his head, frowning so that his eyes narrowed almost to closing, and then qualified it. "This room isn't Force-inhibited, is it? I can't seem to sense much."

"No, it's a normal room. You can feel me, right?"

"That's _all_ I can feel," said Obi-Wan, and Anakin grinned a little at his aggrieved tone.

"Yeah, you don't have much shielding, so I'm muffling everything for you."

Looking at him askance, Obi-Wan said, "Can you stop?"

"It won't feel good," Anakin warned, but Obi-Wan only raised both eyebrows, an expression that advised Anakin not to make him repeat himself.

With a sigh, Anakin did as requested. He pulled back in the Force, no longer filling all the space around them with his aggressively projected presence. They were still connected by the bond, but now that Anakin's signature was out of the way, Obi-Wan's mind was open to every single other energy in the area. Anakin would have to actively reach out to know that the patient in the next room was upset and worried, and the movement of people in the hallways beyond the door was just a background hum to him.

Without shields, every nearby living impulse was an assault.

A sharp, pained exhale, and Obi-Wan collapsed in on himself. His arms wrapped over his chest and he curled, head toward his knees, as if he could escape if he just made himself small enough. In an instant, Anakin had poured himself into the Force, overpowering the area around the bed in an expanding rush, like a parachute deploying. One good thing about being so strong in the Force — he had presence to spare.

Obi-Wan stayed for a moment with his forehead bowed to his knees, and then made a frustrated noise. When he straightened back up it was very gingerly, wincing and pressing a hand to his head. "Ouch."

"I told you," observed Anakin. "Perhaps if you had listened to me, you wouldn't have to learn things the hard way."

The admonition was a familiar one, something Anakin had heard from his master countless times over the years, and Obi-Wan was unimpressed. "Yes, thank you, Padawan. I'll be sure to consult your extraordinary wisdom in the future."

"If only I could believe that," Anakin said, continuing to imitate the tone of a weary master.

Anakin didn't get the full smile he was hoping for, but Obi-Wan couldn't quite hide the wry humor in his eyes. Quickly, though, dismay crowded it out. "Am I meant to be trapped at your side for the rest of my life, then?"

"Not for the rest of your life." Generously, Anakin ignored the word _trapped_. "I'm sure you'll be able to put up some shields even before the healers get to you. You just need to meditate."

"I don't... know if that's possible at the moment," said Obi-Wan.

"Maybe not alone, but I can help you, Master."

The expression Obi-Wan aimed at him was so politely incredulous that Anakin laughed out loud. He acted like Anakin had claimed he no longer enjoyed flying, or he wanted to re-train as a Jedi Archivist or something.

"I _can_ ," he insisted. "What, you don't think I can meditate?"

"Meditating alone is quite different from guiding another's meditation."

A diplomatic answer, but Obi-Wan's skepticism was fair. As a padawan, Anakin had avoided meditation with impressive diligence. Obi-Wan had been lucky to trap him into joint meditation once a week, when most Jedi meditated multiple times per day.

Lifting his chin in challenge, Anakin settled into a cross-legged position and offered his hands to Obi-Wan. "Okay, watch this."

For a moment, Obi-Wan just looked at him and waited, eyebrows raised. If he thought Anakin would back down, though, he was mistaken. "I suppose it can hardly make things worse," he said at last, which, even with his reluctant tone, was a revealing assessment of how bad he was actually feeling. Rearranging himself to mirror Anakin's posture, so that their knees barely touched, he fit his palms to Anakin's. "Impress me."

Anakin had already closed his eyes. "Quiet, Master. We're meditating."

Obi-Wan huffed softly and might have said something else, but Anakin fully opened their bond and all speech quickly became redundant.

Before being able to step together into the Force, Anakin had to bring himself and Obi-Wan into sync. Sometimes it hadn't been easy for Obi-Wan to do when he was guiding them; he had often ridden out quite a few storms before Anakin's teenage mind would settle down enough to join him in shared thought. For Anakin, though, it was almost effortless. Obi-Wan's presence was completely unguarded, and he was already essentially holding him in the palm of his hand. All he did was lean into the bond, and Obi-Wan responded instinctively.

Beginning with a simple centering exercise, Anakin concentrated on their hands — the way they fit together, and the dry warmth he could feel from his master's skin. The lightsaber calluses at the base of each of Obi-Wan's fingers were rough against the heel of Anakin's hand, and as he focused, Anakin could feel the rhythm of Obi-Wan's pulse. Gradually, following the flow of Anakin's thoughts, Obi-Wan's focus merged with his and their breaths slowed and synchronized, hearts beating in time. They shared awareness and impulse between them without barrier, losing track of which sensation belonged to whom, everything just a small part of the same, burning whole.

This was the reason why, even in their most conflict-filled years, Anakin had never consistently turned down joint meditation. While the actual meditation part could be unpleasant and sometimes devastating, the _joint_ part was hard to resist. Sharing this with Obi-Wan felt like heady bliss, being seen and known and accepted, and Anakin could have happily lost himself here forever.

It was the way Obi-Wan waited, surrendered and trusting, that reminded him he had a job to do.

Most meditation was about opening up, entering a state of emptiness and peace, and waiting for the Force to fill you. Obi-Wan, though, was already too open. This was going to be different.

Anakin pulled his presence back from the Force, shielding Obi-Wan less, and then focused inward. Instinctively, he sank down through memories and thoughts, filtering away his own and reaching for Obi-Wan's. Hazy, new impressions from today came readily to Anakin's call — the confusion of awakening, wonder and distressed dissonance as Obi-Wan seemed to remember seeing his restless, golden-haired padawan yesterday, but today saw a Jedi Knight sitting across from him.

When he tried to push past these, Obi-Wan fought.

He did not break from their meditation, but instead tried to take control himself and redirect Anakin. It didn't work, obviously, but Anakin could hardly go sifting through Obi-Wan's mind against his will. He stopped, and widened their awareness a little to the Force again, which soothed Obi-Wan. This was what he wanted — that vacant peace, leaving himself behind to become merely a vessel.

Anakin thought he might finally understand something about why his master relied so heavily on emptiness meditation. Digging like this was painful. Dozens of similar sessions in the last year, either alone or with Master Windu, meant that Anakin was intimately acquainted with the way looking at yourself felt like being skinned alive. He hadn't expected Obi-Wan to have the same problem, but undoubtedly the implant's interference had disturbed the equilibrium of what otherwise would have been a well-ordered mind.

He pushed again, Obi-Wan resisted again, and Anakin tried to apply that soft and unwavering pressure his master had often used on him when he was trying to twist away from the purpose of meditation. He wouldn't yield, but he wouldn't go any further until Obi-Wan was ready to go with him.

It took a long, long time.

Anakin had never truly mastered patience, but, for Obi-Wan, he waited. He saw his own frustration, his itching desire to fix the problem, named them, and let them pass by like dried leaves carried away in the wind. He didn't wonder when Obi-Wan would be ready or count the minutes — Anakin just existed, living through each moment as its own individual eternity, and waited. He was ready when Obi-Wan unfolded just a little, offering him a hidden snatch of memory like a gift.

 _Dripping water, and the near-silent whirr of massive machinery. "Might as well take my tongue, too," said a distinct clone voice, full of gravel and defiance. Darkness pressed in from every side, the Force itself becoming an enemy. A bitter laugh, the music of the sound twisted by its creeping malice. "Very well. It's clear you are useless to me. Perhaps you will serve in another way. Are you watching, Kenobi?" He was watching. He could do nothing but watch, as Ventress smiled and cut out the clone commander's tongue._

Meditating with Ahsoka, Anakin had worked very hard to learn the skill of simply accepting whatever she showed him without judgment or reaction. Without this practice, Anakin would have lost his grip on their focus immediately, kicked back into reality by his horrified, visceral reaction. As it was, he took the hit hard and let it flow through him, feeling all of it and refusing to look away.

It was what Obi-Wan needed.

More images followed, each one scorched with more suffering than the last, until they were coming too thick and fast to absorb. Each one was a test, tempting Anakin to catch on it with outrage, anger, and the overpowering need to ease his master's pain. His concentration bent with every wave, but did not break. He was a river. He was the Force. This wasn't about him.

Drifting deeper, below the molten agony, everything was a painful, disordered tangle. In places there were gaping holes, things missing from where they should be, and everywhere else chaos reigned. Unsnarling it was beyond anything Anakin could ever hope to achieve. He let it pass by and dug even further, seeking the center of Obi-Wan's light — the part of Obi-Wan that was Obi-Wan, even when he remembered nothing at all.

Here, again, Obi-Wan pulled back, clearly knowing exactly what Anakin was doing. He only shied away tentatively, a pleading tug, and when Anakin would not be dissuaded, he gave in. With Obi-Wan's grudging help, the confusion dimmed somewhat, and Anakin found what he was looking for. He had expected a glow, warm and radiant, the way he had always experienced his master's touch in the Force.

Instead, he found an inferno.

Obi-Wan blazed with a searing, white light that shocked Anakin with its violence. Leaping fire burned fierce, singing silently of determination and devotion, purpose and power. It was Obi-Wan who drew back first. Anakin held his ground, awed.

When Obi-Wan pulled at him one more time, Anakin stayed, but he let Obi-Wan go. He couldn't rebuild any of what had been scattered — that would be work for Obi-Wan, and for the healing passage of time — but he could maintain this center, and give Obi-Wan a stable foundation to begin upon. Guidance was a feat of empathy and of strength, but most of all of restraint. Anakin provided structure, his path from surface to depth serving as a road map, his steady presence an anchor. From here on, the meditation was Obi-Wan's.

Now most of all, Anakin needed to maintain concentrated emptiness. He was a conduit for the careful Force work that Obi-Wan didn't yet have the control to manage, nothing more. All around him, Obi-Wan sifted through his memories, pulling associated things back together and drawing new connections in a complex web Anakin couldn't begin to understand. Some familiar snatches caught at the edges of Anakin's notice — Qui-Gon's voice saying _he is capable_ , a burst of Anakin's own laughter — but most spun by in a rushing blur, Anakin holding firm at the center.

He didn't stray too close to Obi-Wan's burning core, but he didn't shy away the way Obi-Wan had, either. Anakin would have liked to have basked in the light here, luxuriate in the way it felt so dangerously cleansing, like it would either purify him or destroy him — but he didn't. That would have brought him back into himself, and broken their immersive focus.

 _I am a river. I am the Force_.

Obi-Wan's sudden touch was unexpected, and the surprise knocked a few levels of concentration out of Anakin. He almost lost a few more to dismay, before realizing that Obi-Wan was drawing him away, back towards the waking world. They rose together, slow and even, like boats floating on a windless lake, content to let the barely-there current steer their course. Obi-Wan's mind was still by no means in perfect order, but no mind ever was, and there was now at least a structure to what they passed as they drifted upward. That was good. It would help, for now, Anakin hoped.

That hope pouring over him like a splash of cold water, Anakin found himself. His own mind, his own body, the thoughts and feelings he had temporarily separated from now one by one falling back into place. He could feel the stiffness in his muscles from sitting so long, and Obi-Wan's hands still in his. Across from him, Obi-Wan felt more self-contained, more solid in the Force. Anakin didn't particularly feel like doing it, but he siphoned himself back over the bond, knowing Obi-Wan could never test the steadiness of his autonomy with Anakin sitting in his head.

Opening his eyes, Anakin looked straight into Obi-Wan's clouded ones. Suddenly alarmed, he took in the tear-tracks that lined Obi-Wan's face and the crystalline damp on his eyelashes.

Anakin had never seen his master cry. Ever.

It was paralyzing. Obi-Wan freed one of his hands and pressed it to his cheek, covering half his face and squeezing his eyes shut again. For a moment he just breathed, the same calming rhythm he had unconsciously used during the implant removal. Anakin didn't know what to do.

Already, panicked fears were beginning to pile up in the back of his mind. It hadn't worked. His guiding had probably been all wrong. What if he had hurt Obi-Wan even more? He shouldn't have been so cocky. He should have _known_ he wouldn't be good enough. Now he had ruined everything, and Obi-Wan would blame him—

Obi-Wan reached for Anakin, framing his face in his hands one more time and then drawing him in to gently press their foreheads together. "Thank you," he murmured, eyes still closed.

The shaky breath Anakin released felt like it pulled half his heart out with it. His voice trembled a little when he asked, "Are you all right?"

"I _am_ ," said Obi-Wan. "That's enough."

Anakin did not want to cry again, so he tried to think about practical things. Not the way one of Obi-Wan's hands found his again and squeezed tightly. Not the things he had seen in Obi-Wan's memories. Not the devastating lean of Obi-Wan's forehead against his own, a gesture of deep affection given as easily as if they had done this a hundred times before. No. Practical things.

"Do you— Do you think you can shield at all, Master?"

They were so close, Anakin could _feel_ Obi-Wan's look of concentration. With difficulty, a thin barrier rose between them in the Force. Anakin could still sense most of Obi-Wan's feelings when he tried, but it was something. More than he had been able to do before.

"I can probably do more. Later," said Obi-Wan, pulling back slightly into his own space. "Not now."

"Yeah." Anakin could sense his master's fatigue, not to mention his own. He didn't know how long they had slept, but it sure hadn't been long enough. When Obi-Wan asked for his hand back, Anakin released it with reluctance. "How do you feel about the possibility of traveling?"

"I would like to do it with a shirt on," said Obi-Wan dryly, using the blanket to scrub his face. "And perhaps a shower first, if possible."

"Of course. But — the Force? I'll be with you anyway, it's just..."

Would Obi-Wan be able to hold his rudimentary shields for hours or even days? If not, Anakin was prepared to pick up the slack.

"I'll be fine."

As he moved to slide off the bed, Anakin regarded Obi-Wan with suspicion. That sounded like the most dubious of cut-and-dried answers. Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows and pointedly shielded their bond, just to show that he could.

"Fine, be like that," said Anakin, narrowing his eyes. It would become clear eventually whether Obi-Wan could sustain the effort or not. He could wait. "Let's see if anyone is still around. Who even knows what time it is."

Reaching out in the Force, he was surprised to find Ahsoka relatively nearby. Tugging on their bond rhythmically, he called her and went to grab his boots. Anakin tossed his comm onto the bed and let it scroll through the holodisplay of new updates as he pulled his boots on, Obi-Wan watching keenly. It looked like they had slept for about five hours — it was now late afternoon, almost evening. Departure had been delayed, obviously. That was about the only helpful information his feed had to offer.

He also had one single message from Master Windu that just said " _ **?**_ " but that didn't exactly qualify as helpful.

"I've missed so much," said Obi-Wan.

"You didn't follow the war at all when you didn't have your memories?"

Obi-Wan considered this, thumb again pressing at the scars under his chin. "I don't think I was interested."

"Makes sense."

"Does it?"

"Sure," said Anakin. "The chip would have steered you away from thinking about anything related to the Jedi."

Obi-Wan's eyes rested on Anakin, but his thoughtful frown revealed that his mind was elsewhere. It was a familiar pensive contemplation, not the troubled, questioning expression Anakin had seen several times in the last two days. That, Anakin hoped, was gone for good. Smiling, Anakin picked up his comm and clipped it onto his wrist gauntlet.

"I think many of my recollections are still unreliable," Obi-Wan concluded, turning to sit on the edge of the bed.

"That's kind of to be expected, Master. I don't think there's anything more we can do about it at the moment. Probably the healers will have more to say."

"Oh, without a doubt."

Sensing activity at the door behind him, Anakin turned. It was unmistakably Ahsoka's distinct presence, and she hesitated, silhouetted on the threshold as harsh, white light spilled in behind her.

"Knock knock?"

"Hey, Snips." Anakin shielded his eyes. "Force, that's bright."

She stepped inside, the door shielding them from the painful light when it closed behind her. "So, you're back in the land of the living? I checked on you after you woke up, but you were… busy," said Ahsoka, sneaking a look at Obi-Wan, who gazed back at her with calm interest, and then quickly glancing away. "Are you feeling better?"

"I'm still half dead, but that's better than all dead. Don't ever take a stim shot, Snips."

Ahsoka gave him a crooked grin. "Don't worry, Master. I always watch what you do and then do the opposite."

"Ha ha." Anakin was far too aware of how true that wasn't. He leaned against the bed, knocking Obi-Wan's knee and then gesturing at Ahsoka proudly. "Master, this is _my_ mouthy padawan, Ahsoka Tano. Ahsoka, meet Obi-Wan Kenobi."

The Force rang with the echoes of Obi-Wan's shock. Eyes wide, he turned to Anakin. "You said I was only lost for a _year and a half_."

"Yeah."

"The Council allowed you to take a padawan? Anakin, you are _twenty-one_ years old."

"Believe me," Anakin said, "I know."

Speechless, Obi-Wan looked back to Ahsoka. She smiled hopefully and bowed. "It's an honor to meet you, Master Kenobi."

"Likewise, I'm sure. Any padawan of Anakin's must be a truly remarkable Jedi," said Obi-Wan, nonplussed. He pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers. "Perhaps I should just give up on understanding anything for the time being."

Anakin laughed. "You'll get the hang of it. Is Master Plo here, Ahsoka? I saw we've been delayed, but that's all. Was there some kind of an issue with the clinic?"

Taking a deep breath, Ahsoka put her hands on her hips. "Yeah... you kind of threatened to frame them for treason and shut them down. They weren't happy."

Obi-Wan pressed his thumb between his eyebrows even harder.

"I did?"

"Yeah. It wasn't good. Doctor Roh tipped off the media about us being here — out of self-preservation, he said — so all the holocams came down from the Rotunda and besieged the clinic. Master Plo went back to HQ to try to draw them off, but there are still a bunch outside waiting for a glimpse of _Anakin Skywalker_." She pitched her voice higher when she said his name, wiggling her fingers theatrically.

"Fantastic. I guess they'll get some great action footage of us leaving, then."

"And the doctors want to talk to Master Kenobi. Master Plo got them to agree to leave you alone until you woke up and I've been keeping them away, but as soon as they know you're up they're going to be forcing their way in here."

"Oh, Anakin," sighed Obi-Wan. "How did you manage to make enemies so fast?"

"I don't know! _I_ was perfectly reasonable."

Ahsoka caught Obi-Wan's eye, and they both made the same doubtful expression. Somehow, until that very second, Anakin had overlooked the obvious fact that they would gang up on him. In an instant, his inevitable future flashed before his eyes.

"Well, I suppose I ought to speak to them." Obi-Wan dropped to his feet. "I might remember having some extra clothes stashed around here somewhere..."

"I can go look for them if you want. But I also had the larty that picked up Master Plo bring some things over of Anakin's, if you'd rather," offered Ahsoka.

Obi-Wan looked Anakin up and down, raising an eyebrow. "Black?"

"Actually, this is charcoal gray." He had been thinking about going black on his next req order to the quartermaster, though.

"That would be appreciated, thank you, Padawan Tano," Obi-Wan said, and Ahsoka flashed him a quick thumbs up before leaving to grab what she'd brought.

"My stuff is going to be too big for you, Master."

"Not that big."

"Way too big," Anakin disagreed.

"Lights, sixty-five percent. It's time to stop living in a cave of darkness," Ahsoka announced when she came back, brightening the room considerably and making them both wince. She handed Obi-Wan a neatly folded stack of fabric, using both hands like a properly respectful padawan.

"I feel hungover. I'm never using those shots again," groused Anakin, then promptly forgot all his woes when he saw the astromech droid trundling in at Ahsoka's heels. "Artoo!"

"I figured we might be able to use some help," said Ahsoka. Artoo whistled in approval, spinning his domed head from side to side.

"Ahsoka, I don't care what everyone says, you are _the_ greatest padawan in the entire Jedi Order."

Ahsoka tried to level him with an unimpressed stare, but couldn't suppress the way her mouth quirked. "You know, you could just say thank you."

Obi-Wan had pulled on one of Anakin's dark brown-red undershirts; it was tight on Anakin, so it was only a little loose on Obi-Wan. The undertunic and overtunic were more loose, but they were meant to be voluminous anyway, and the belt cinched them together acceptably. Obi-Wan was still far too thin, but seeing him dressed like a Jedi made Anakin blink and swallow hard. "Now you just need the beard back, Master," he joked, trying to ignore the way his throat had tightened.

"Unfortunately, I don't think you'll be able to lend me that," said Obi-Wan, smiling at him in a very unhelpful way. "Shall we see about this media standoff, then?"

Artoo warbled authoritatively, both Ahsoka and Anakin turning to look at him. "Okay, thanks, buddy. Patch him through," Anakin replied.

A blue hologram image resolved in the air, Artoo projecting it at about waist height, and Master Plo stood before them. "Skywalker," he rumbled, "you're awake. Good. What's the situation there? We are running out of time."

"We just need to negotiate our escape from the clinic, Master Plo. We should be fine here if the fleet needs to deploy. Just leave us some kind of transport we can use to get back to Coruscant."

"I take it that Obi-Wan is able-bodied, then?"

Arms crossed, Obi-Wan stepped into the vision field of the holo next to Anakin. "More or less, Master Plo."

"Obi-Wan, I am pleased to see you alive. The war has taken much from the Jedi Order. I am glad you are not among the fallen."

Obi-Wan inclined his head. "Thank you, Master."

Addressing Anakin again, Master Plo said, "The fleet does need to deploy. The situation in the Prackla Sector is becoming critical. Every hour we delay worsens the situation we will face when we do arrive."

"Then you shouldn't wait around for us."

"I wouldn't, except that you are commanding half my force, Anakin," said Master Plo. It was always a sign of _something_ when he used Anakin's first name, and this time Anakin suspected it was sarcasm. "I will leave a transport to convey Obi-Wan back to the Temple, but your assignment and mine is to retake the planet Cartao from the Separatists."

"I'm going back with Obi-Wan. Once I clear it with Master Windu—"

"Master Windu issued our current orders."

"Yeah, but once I explain about Obi-Wan—"

Master Plo was shaking his head slowly, as if Anakin was just not getting it. "Skywalker, I apprised the Council of this situation hours ago, after you first reported it to me. The orders stand."

"What," said Anakin flatly. "That can't be right. I need to go back with Obi-Wan."

"Anakin—" Obi-Wan began, but Anakin flung a hand up and spoke over him.

"We'll make our way back to the Rotunda with all speed, Master Plo. I'll get back to you on this as soon as possible."

"Yes, do that," said Master Plo.

"Skywalker out."

Artoo cut the transmission, and Anakin hissed in annoyance. What the hell was this about? Was Master Windu messing with him? On his wrist comm, he pulled up Master Windu's message and shot off a reply: _**?**_

When he looked up, he found Obi-Wan and Ahsoka both watching him carefully. In an overly reasonable tone, Obi-Wan said, "I hardly think it's necessary to leave your assignment just to fly home with me, Anakin."

"Don't worry about it," said Anakin, lifting his chin and looking his master in the eye. He wasn't going to abandon Obi-Wan _now_. Not again. "I'm taking care of it. Looks like we both have something to negotiate."


	17. Shades of Parting

Master Windu's response pinged up on Anakin's comm: _?_

Glaring as if he could reach through the useless, glowing text with his anger, Anakin waved the message away. He was tired, strung out, and not in the mood to tolerate being trifled with.

They had relocated to a small lounge in the administrative part of the clinic, sending Artoo to find Four-Eighteen and look for Irenia or one of the other doctors. Anakin had gone first to the reception desk, but found it deserted. The whole clinic actually seemed to be deserted — no nurses or technicians in the halls, and all the workstations were empty. The silent stillness made it seem a lot later at night than it actually was.

Obi-Wan had taken a seat to wait, and Ahsoka stood. Anakin tried not to pace, but mostly failed. He needed to get Master Windu on comm and figure out exactly what was going on, but he couldn't exactly just leave Obi-Wan to fix a problem he himself had caused. Well, he _could_. It wasn't like he hadn't done that a thousand times before, but—

He snuck a look at Obi-Wan. He had his eyes closed, head leaned back against the seat, and Anakin's cloak slung over his arm. By all accounts, he looked peaceful and untroubled. But his shields were still fragile, and who knew what exactly the doctors were going to expect from him. Was he up to handling them all by himself?

Eyes still closed, Obi-Wan said, "You can go, Anakin."

Anakin was pretty sure his thoughts hadn't been spilling that obviously. Even the bond was still primitively shielded. "Maybe," he said. "Not yet, though."

Obi-Wan folded his hands over his stomach. "I suspect that you may _have_ to take yourself somewhere else in order for this encounter to go peacefully."

Shrugging, Anakin crossed his arms.

"What about me?" asked Ahsoka.

"You stay," Anakin told her. He knew she was asking if Obi-Wan wanted privacy, but regardless of the answer, Anakin wanted her to stay. Obi-Wan should have some backup, just in case.

Obi-Wan didn't react, so he couldn't have had too much of a problem with the extra company. If Anakin hadn't known that individual meditation was nigh unto impossible for Obi-Wan at the moment, he would have thought that was exactly what his master was doing.

Artoo's warning shriek could be heard a moment before the door slid open. He rocked back and forth on his booster legs, still shrieking, and then rolled into the room. Obi-Wan opened one eye. "That seemed a little dramatic."

"He has a lot of opinions about Four-Eighteen," said Anakin. "Did you find anyone, Artoo?"

"He did." Doctor Roh stood in the doorway, looking grave. "I am glad to see—"

Obi-Wan stood, and whatever Roh had been about to say vanished.

"Alpha!" said Irenia, pushing past Roh and into the room.

It seemed that Artoo had in fact found _everyone_ , as more people joined them. All together there were five: Roh, Irenia, Suzor, the young boy Lesk from the night before, and a Chalactan-looking young woman Anakin had never seen before. Obi-Wan gave them a smile, pleasant and meant to reassure — the welcome of a diplomat.

"Hello. Come in, please," he said, as if the room were his own personal audience chamber.

While Roh and the Chalactan watched Anakin, and Irenia stood seemingly rooted to the spot, Suzor stepped forward with wide eyes and a face that wanted to smile back. "How are you feeling? Is it true you're really a Jedi?"

"Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Knight." Obi-Wan's mock bow dispelled some tension and released Suzor's grin. "As to feeling, I am very well. It is a relief to finally know myself, and to feel the Force."

"Well, kriff. I sure wouldn't have guessed it, but I'm glad!" said Suzor, so sincerely pleased that for a moment it was hard for Anakin to dislike him.

He could still sense the intent focus that the others were heaping upon him, like he was a dangerous animal they didn't dare take their eyes off. There had been a time when Anakin had felt nearly everyone looked at him that way, and he didn't enjoy revisiting the feeling. "Please, sit. We should talk about what comes next," said Obi-Wan, and when they still seemed reluctant to move, Anakin sighed. That was clearly his cue to leave.

"Artoo and I are gonna go make some calls, Master," he said, pushing a question through the bond. Was it okay? He didn't have to leave, if Obi-Wan thought he might be needed.

Obi-Wan's answer was approvingly affirmative, so he nodded to Ahsoka, reminding her to keep her eyes up. She cocked her head at the exit, telling him that she needed no reminders. When he headed for the door, it had the helpful consequence of forcing everyone clustered there to move to avoid him, effectively driving them toward Obi-Wan. Artoo at his heels, Anakin gave the bond one last encouraging pluck, as if it were a quetarra string, and then walked out of the room.

xxx

Irenia saw him smile, and she knew it was over.

She had thought — she had _hoped_ , despite everything, that Anakin was wrong. That even with his memories restored, the last year would still mean to Alpha some of what it had meant to her. But he smiled and, though she had seen countless variations of Alpha's smile, she had never seen this one. It was practiced sincerity, an expression that concealed more than it showed, and she knew that Alpha was gone. This was Obi-Wan Kenobi.

The air turned to stone in Irenia's lungs. She was glad when Suzor stepped into the fray, because at the moment she was unequal to doing anything except struggling to breathe. Anakin's intention to leave was expressed like a statement, but the look they exchanged was permission asked and granted between a soldier and his superior, or perhaps between a boy and his father.

She didn't care if Anakin stayed or not — it didn't change anything — but the others seemed to collectively exhale relief when he was gone. Avni was the first to speak.

"You didn't say it was _Anakin Skywalker_."

It took a second for Irenia to realize that the younger woman was addressing her. "You know I don't keep up with the news."

Avni was a student, working as an equipment technician at the clinic for the apprenticeship portion of her course. She was always invested in the newest word from the HoloNet boards, whether it was a recent technological development or the latest updates on the war. Irenia had never understood her interest. The HoloNet was a mire of controversy, vapid entertainment, and constant, morbid focus on every horror the week had to offer; anything useful that could possibly be found wasn't worth digging through everything else.

"We have seen too much of the war," said Roh, resting a hand on his son's shoulder, "to care to ever see more."

It was only the third time Irenia had ever heard him refer to the events that had forced them to flee their home planet. She knew that Lesk's mother had been killed there, but that was all. For the first time, it occurred to her to wonder whether Roh had recognized early on in Alpha — in _Obi-Wan_ — a fellow casualty of the war. He certainly didn't seem as blindsided as she was.

"He's only the most famous Jedi in the entire galaxy. In the news practically every day. The media's interest makes more sense now, I guess. I bet if _he_ had been deployed to the Corellian Trade Spine when—"

"Avni," snapped Irenia.

Avni didn't mean to be heedless and inconsiderate. She just had a lot of thoughts and very little awareness of when to speak them aloud. Suzor was looking pained, and Roh moved nearer to touch Irenia's elbow gently. He offered the touch to ground her, and she gave him a tight smile as she stepped away from him. She didn't need grounding.

Taking a deep breath that seemed to hurt more than it helped, Irenia said, "We should sit." She chose the chair nearest to Obi-Wan, and folded her hands tightly in her lap. Since it was all she had to offer at the moment, she aimed the same tight smile at Obi-Wan. "You said we should talk, so. Let's talk."

This room was used most of the time for meetings so the seats were arranged around a central holoprojector, but they were portable. Suzor joined Irenia as part of the existing circle, while Roh and Lesk remained standing together. Avni broke the alignment by pushing a chair over with her foot before sitting down. "You know him? Anakin Skywalker?"

She was still on that. Normally, Irenia was a very patient person, but today the urge to kill Avni with her bare hands was cropping up more than usual. She tried to view this as an opportunity to tune out and collect herself.

Obi-Wan was looking at her, grave and seeing far too much, when he answered Avni. "Yes, I trained Anakin. He has, apparently, made me proud." Turning slightly, he gestured to the Togruta girl standing against the wall. "This is Jedi Padawan Ahsoka Tano."

The girl bowed, but said nothing. She wore two laser swords clipped to a utility belt, and was clearly there performing some duty. Square-shouldered and capable, she couldn't have been more than sixteen, but wore as much unconscious authority as any veteran surgeon Irenia had ever known. So young, and wielding so much power. How could the Jedi throw children like this in front of the kind of monsters that had enslaved Duro and razed Humbarine?

"First I must apologize. I am told Anakin made some kind of threats while I was unconscious. You saved my life in this place," he said, meeting Irenia's eyes, "first by taking me in and again by restoring my memory. I hope you can understand that his antagonism came not from hatred but from concern for me. Regardless, that kind of behavior toward you all, to whom I owe my deepest thanks, was inexcusable."

Irenia looked away. She noticed that it wasn't Anakin standing here saying these things.

"He was a little heavy-handed, but the other Jedi was quite civil," said Roh.

"I'm sure we all just want things to work out well for you," Suzor said, and then ducked his head in embarrassment when he found everyone's gaze on him. He was a good intern and would be a good doctor one day, unusually humble for one of his talent. Irenia had often thought that Roh was too hard on him. "You know, it's just. You're a good man. You've been a friend to me, at least. It would be crazy to let the Jedi just... _take_ you. People say they take kids away from their parents by force."

Obi-Wan smiled at him, but his eyes looked somber. "Thank you, Suzor. I am happy to call you friend."

"But," said Roh, never one to stray from the point, "you are leaving."

The nod Obi-Wan gave him was ambiguous. Was it just acknowledgment, or was it agreement? "Am I right in assuming that the clinic has been temporarily closed?"

"Yes," said Avni.

It was a massive headache — an entire day's worth of appointments and procedures were going to have to be rescheduled and somehow fit into their already-overflowing calendar. Not to mention the inconvenience for the beings undergoing inpatient care who should have been released today, or couldn't receive the visitors they had been counting on. It would have been irresponsible to remain open, though, and subject visitors to the circus outside. No one wanted to come for a routine checkup and have their face plastered across the HoloNet.

"Except for essential personnel, and those who had a particular interest in staying."

"And me," said Lesk, "but I don't mind if my picture is in the news."

He always came by after school and did his own work until Roh's shift was over. Neither hell nor high water could keep that boy away from his father, and today was no exception.

"The cam crews will leave when we do. If for some reason they don't, the Muracie municipal authorities should be more than willing to intervene on your behalf," said Obi-Wan, command layered so instinctively into his manner that some might not have noticed it.

Irenia did. It was hard not to blame Roh for bringing this down on them, or Anakin for making it necessary. Perversely, Irenia blamed Obi-Wan for not being Alpha. Every time he spoke and with every movement, it became clearer that he was not the same person. She saw it in the way everything he did now seemed to have been considered in advance, and the way his thoughts no longer showed on his face. Before, he had been looser, relaxed and open — now a quiet frown seemed to lurk behind even his smiles, and self-control covered him like an invisible cloak. She hated it.

It was unfair, and she knew it was unfair, the same as when she had shouted at Anakin, and the feeling likely came from the same root. She had believed, just like he had, that the implant needed to be removed. If she hadn't agreed, she wouldn't have done it, regardless of the circumstances. The time and interminable, foot-tapping waiting between then and now had given her space to realize that. Anakin had been right, and she had been afraid, so she had tried to make him the enemy and protect herself with anger.

This was the same. Irenia wanted the safety that came from building bitter walls around her heart. She wanted the fortification of outrage. But it changed nothing. He was leaving. If she said nothing and hated him, he would leave anyway.

Speaking took every piece of broken courage she could muster, and her voice was still unsteady. "You could... stay?"

Calmly, he gazed back at her with so much compassion that it was almost unendurable. "I am a Jedi. My place is with my Order."

"Fighting in the war? That's what did this to you in the first place. That doesn't have to be your life."

"But it is."

Irenia mouth pressed into a line. "But it doesn't _have_ to be."

"No," Obi-Wan agreed gently, "but it is what I choose."

He was giving her a gift — making it easier for her to blame him, if that was what she wanted. With that realization, Irenia's anger evaporated, and all she felt was a tight pain in her chest. _For him, there is no choice_ , Anakin had said _._ He was wrong. There was always a choice, and it seemed that this one had been made a long time ago.

"Did you find what you were missing?" Irenia had to wonder if he even remembered being Alpha, when his response was nothing but confusion. Had he given up his recent memories in exchange for his older ones? "Once, you told me that something important was missing. That you felt like you couldn't help looking for it everywhere you went, even though you didn't know _what_ you were looking for. Have you found it?"

"Oh." Obi-Wan considered this. "I believe... yes. I have."

"I thought, when he showed up, that maybe it was Anakin." It cost Irenia a lot to admit, but she wanted to show him that it was all right. That she understood.

Surprised humor sparked in his eyes, and she thought that, if he had still been Alpha, he would have laughed. "Perhaps it was," he said. "I left much undone."

"What do you want done with your things? I'm sure, given a few hours, that we could pack whatever you need—"

Shaking his head before Roh even finished speaking, Obi-Wan said, "There is nothing. I give everything to you, to do whatever you think best. Could it be given to the needy?"

"There's got to be time to take _something_ ," said Lesk with dismay, no doubt thinking of his own experience as a refugee, losing everything from his old life.

Roh explained, "It's not a question of time, Lesk. The Jedi are not allowed possessions."

"Nothing?"

Obi-Wan smiled at Lesk's incredulity. "Things we truly need, like clothes and food, are provided by the Order. Everything else is unnecessary."

"Except lightsabers," observed Avni with interest, cocking her head at the hilts hung prominently on the young Jedi girl's belt.

"Do you have one?" Lesk asked.

Crossing his arms, Obi-Wan frowned. "Not at the moment, but—" he turned to look at the girl, who winced at him meaningfully "—I think I know where mine is."

Irenia was busy trying to avoid Roh's eyes, and didn't notice immediately when the expressions of both Jedi went cautiously abstract. It lasted just a moment too long, though, and she caught the end of the pensive look they exchanged, as if double checking that they were both thinking the same thing. Some energy had shifted, and Irenia knew they had run out of time.

Time was what Roh had been trying to buy her by suggesting getting Obi-Wan's things, and he was still waiting for her to volunteer to take charge of what he was leaving behind. She had spent the most time at his house, had helped him furnish it, even, and knew his projects most intimately, so it only made sense. But— sift through all that, on her own, knowing that she would never see the man who had lived there ever again? It sounded like the worst kind of agony.

"I suppose you will be leaving soon, then. The others seemed to be in a hurry," said Roh, finally catching her gaze and raising his eyebrows. Her window of opportunity to say anything at all was closing. She looked away.

"I'm afraid so. Anakin and the fleet are needed elsewhere, and I have caused enough delay already."

 _Caused delay_ by being found alive, by being freed of a parasitic torture device? Was that really how little his Order valued him? Or was it how little he valued himself? Suzor and Avni were standing, Roh moving to shake Obi-Wan's hand, and clearly what little time remained had begun to slip away. Belatedly, Irenia got to her feet as well, feeling wooden and detached. Obi-Wan was saying something again about how much he owed them, how grateful he was for their friendship.

"I was glad to know you," said Suzor, already mentally putting their relationship into the past.

Irenai stood, silent, waiting for Obi-Wan to finally walk out the door. Every minute he didn't was just extending the hurt. He was already gone. The rest was pretense. When he moved toward her, she braced to allow him to walk past, but he paused. Obi-Wan took both of her hands in his and, in shock, Irenia couldn't stop her gaze from snapping upward to meet his.

He was far too close, his eyes too blue. "Thank you," he said quietly, just for her. "I'm sorry."

"You're not sorry," she said, but managed a tremulous smile.

"I am sorry to cause you pain."

Irenia knew that, at least, was real. She had nothing to say.

Of course, in another moment he moved on, saying his farewells to the others and making his way to the door. He waited there for the Togruta girl to join him, and said something to her in a low voice that Irenia suspected was about Anakin. Irenia felt Roh standing near her, and was pathetically grateful that he didn't try to touch her again. She didn't think she could endure it.

Obi-Wan bowed to them again, a motion unbearably foreign, like it belonged in a holodrama set thousands of years ago, and then the last few seconds ran out. He stepped through the door, leaving behind their world and his place in it.

xxx

Not every astromech unit was equipped with an intersystem-rated, military-grade encrypted subspace holo-transceiver. In fact, Anakin thought he could confidently say that almost none of them were. Artoo, however, was no ordinary astromech droid. At this point, he probably had more upgrades than the most sophisticated battle droid Baktoid had ever produced.

"Artoo, comm Master Windu's personal link," Anakin said, after they had ducked into the nearest deserted room. "Code white."

Whistling, Artoo did. Master Windu would answer a code white if he were at all able to. Unless he were currently in the middle of battle — and Anakin didn't think he was, since he had answered Anakin's message just a few minutes ago — he would likely respond in ten minutes or so. Settling down to wait, Anakin was surprised to find that the room he'd found was the security room/server hub Obi-Wan had showed him last night.

The live feed from the security holocams inside the clinic showed mostly nothing, empty hallways and a few nurses doing rounds. There were only two that he could see aimed outside the clinic, covering the front and side doors; the front door one had a bad angle, but Anakin could see a diagonal slice of the street out front, and the walking path was full of people, like they were waiting for a parade. Hovercams and cam droids bobbed in the air above their heads as they moved restlessly, some sitting, others talking on comlinks or to each other. They weren't waiting for a parade — they were waiting for some Jedi, any Jedi, to finally show his face.

With a snort of disgust, Anakin pulled the chair away from the security feed and pushed it in front of Artoo. "Anything yet, buddy?"

Artoo's response was negative, and Anakin didn't sit. Having the chair in the first place seemed a little optimistic. He wasn't sure he _could_ sit. Moving from one part of the room to the other in a route as randomly circuitous as that of a moon moth, he examined everything of note twice, and there was still no answer. He was conscious of Obi-Wan and Ahsoka just a few doors down, both bonds feeling calm and steady, and of Master Plo waiting for them at the city center.

When Artoo beeped with sudden urgency, Anakin leaped about six feet to his side. For a second, he was afraid it might be a "comm me later" message, but then Artoo fired up his projector and spotlighted the blue outline of Master Windu into the air in front of Anakin. It was a half-body holo, so he was visible from the waist up, wearing field armor and standing with his hands folded into his sleeves. Impassively, Master Windu looked Anakin up and down.

"Well, Skywalker," he said. "You've certainly had an interesting few days."

Anakin let out a long breath, the antsiness draining out of him and leaving behind only exhaustion. His headache from earlier was gone, but without that nervous energy his whole body felt dull and sluggish. Slowly, he collapsed into the chair and buried his head in his hands. "Master Windu, you have _no_ idea."

"Tell me."

"How much time do you have?" Anakin asked through his fingers.

"As much time as necessary."

"Well, uh, Obi-Wan is alive. So there's that. But you already knew that, didn't you?"

Not reacting to Anakin's accusatory tone except to incline his head slightly, Master Windu said, "Yes. Plo reported to the Council several hours ago, but he said the situation was uncertain and wasn't any more specific."

"Yeah, it—" Anakin flicked his durasteel hand, dismissive. "He was Force-inhibited and had no memory of the Jedi Order or anything. But we figured it out. He's fine now."

Master Windu's eyebrows rose.

"He's _alive_ , Master Windu. You know what that means."

"Do I?" The way Master Windu's face was set, he was clearly reluctant to find out.

"It means I _left_ him on Jabiim. Just like I left the loyalists to die. I left my own master to be tortured by Ventress."

"We talked about this, Skywalker."

"No," Anakin insisted, jaw tightening. They had talked about the mistakes made with the loyalists, not about Obi-Wan.

Master Windu spread his hands in response, and just waited. This was apparently going to be one of _those_ talks.

Sometimes, Anakin almost wished Master Windu would be like Obi-Wan — always knowing what he meant better even than he did, always out in front of him with the right answer. Since he wasn't, it forced Anakin to take the space to arrange his own thoughts, which was hard work. Often, it also gave Anakin plenty of rope to hang himself with.

His impulse was to dwell on what Obi-Wan had gone through, wrap it up together with what he felt about losing his mother, about deserting allies to die on Jabiim, about trusting his men to a traitor on Umbara — a massive, never-ending quagmire that would ensnare him forever. _I fail everyone I love_. The path down was familiar, and the way out was thinking about Padme.

But no. Fighting to stomp down the hopeless shame that wanted to take over, Anakin searched for the point he'd been trying to make. There had been one, he was sure. _Guilt is selfishness_ , he thought, hearing Obi-Wan's voice from long ago. _Acceptance and repentance are compassion_. It was Master Windu who had pointed out that the compassion Jedi were to cultivate for all living beings inherently included compassion for yourself.

Acceptance. Yes, he had betrayed the loyalists and failed Obi-Wan on Jabiim.

Repentance. He regretted his actions, and wanted never to repeat them.

There — that was his point.

"I want to request a change of orders. Ahsoka can take the 501st to Cartao with Master Plo, but I need to go with Obi-Wan to Coruscant," said Anakin. "I shouldn't abandon him again."

Master Windu nodded, acknowledging the effort Anakin had put into stating his perspective plainly, without any escalation. "I'm afraid that's not an option."

"Why the kriff—"

Before all of Anakin's self-control could totally evaporate, Master Windu held up a hand. "Skywalker, I am on my way to Balmorra right now. We are about to launch Operation Rising Tide."

"Oh." Anakin froze. "That's... Oh. Are we _ready_?"

"We have to be," said Master Windu grimly. "We barely kept Grievous from taking the Core. If we don't knock the Separatists back from their advanced position, we _will_ lose this war, and this lull may be our only chance."

"Cartao isn't part of Operation Rising Tide."

"Its government has remained neutral. Once it's secure, you'll have the necessary Mid Rim holdings to turn back and retake Commenor."

Retake Commenor, Balmorra, then Duro, and from there they could be in position to rout the Seps from nearly the entire Inner and Mid Rims. Anakin knew the plan like he knew his own name, had argued it before the Council, and was almost certain it would work. This could be the turning point of the war itself. Master Windu was right, too, that regardless of anything else, they couldn't afford to allow Grievous to maintain the swath of territory he'd captured so close to the Core.

"Do you think Padawan Tano is capable of filling your role in the operation?"

Shoulders slumping, Anakin hesitated, but there was really only one answer. "No."

This was going to be one of the most ambitious campaigns of the war, involving hundreds of Jedi and millions of clones. There was no way he would ever put that responsibility on Ahsoka.

"Then the only other option would be to put the 501st temporarily under someone else's command."

Anakin covered his face with his hands again.

That was never happening, ever. He had been a little anxious leaving his men before Umbara, but that was mostly worry over whether anyone would be as effective as he would have been. It had never crossed his mind that perhaps the Jedi Master they sent to take his place might not be trustworthy. If he had done his research and heard about Krell's high troop casualty rate— But no, no, no, no. He had to stay in the present, not dwell on the past.

"Maybe if— Quinlan—?" he tried, but ended up just shaking his head.

Even if he could convince someone he absolutely trusted to cover him, like Quinlan or Master Ki-Adi, the 501st didn't know them; they would only know that Anakin had put their lives in the hands of a stranger again. It would be fatal to their cohesion and put them through so much unnecessary trauma. He wouldn't do that to them.

"Operation Rising Tide is half your plan, and your force will face some of the most brutal fronts of the offensive. It's not just a matter of having any Jedi to fill a slot. We need _you_ , Skywalker, if we are to succeed."

"Someone always needs me. Obi-Wan needs me too," said Anakin, but it was weak.

"Why?"

"Because. I left him on Jabiim—"

"I understand your desire not to repeat past mistakes, Skywalker," said Master Windu, tone dangerously reasonable, "but unfortunately, you're still talking nonsense."

Anakin bristled, crossing his arms. "Well maybe if you let me finish—"

"I'm sure I can predict the rest of it. You're reluctant to leave Obi-Wan because it was physically letting him out of your sight that led to his capture, right? It had absolutely nothing to do with allowing your anger to destroy your connection. So you're going to avoid this error by keeping your eyes on him from now until the day you die. Except—" Master Windu made a show of peering around at Anakin's surroundings. "Uh oh. Looks like he's not in the room with you right now. Better check if he's been captured again."

"Don't treat me like I'm stupid," said Anakin, stung by the sarcasm. This wasn't a game.

"Then stop acting like it. Am I wrong?"

Anakin was sure what he had been trying to say was vastly more logical and important than Master Windu's parody, but when he tried to articulate it, nothing came. "I—"

Master Windu sighed. "What else happened?"

"What?"

"Skywalker, the amount of rationality you are showing is sadly minimal. That Centares job was supposed to be a simple clean-up. What else happened?"

Confused, Anakin said, "Nothing. We found the information leak and plugged it. We got the info from the Separatist comm stations. I'm sure Clone Intelligence is working it over now. And I found Obi-Wan."

Master Windu narrowed his eyes. "When was the last time you slept?"

"I just woke up from a nap actually," said Anakin snidely. "And I was unconscious for a while after the asteroid thing, if that counts."

"Ah," Master Windu said. "The asteroid thing."

"Yeah, a hiccup during one of the comm station busts. It's all going to be in my report."

"Tell me."

"I didn't call you to dissect some stunt I pulled. We're talking about Obi-Wan!"

"All things are connected." Master Windu let his arms fall to his sides. The motion looked tired. "Humor me."

Slumping deeper into his chair, Anakin dropped his head against the seat back and squeezed his eyes shut. Fine, so maybe if he gave Master Windu what he wanted, he would be more cooperative about the orders. He'd thought about the possibility of bringing Obi-Wan with him for the duration of the mission to Cartao, but that was stupid. Obi-Wan needed the healers.

"Okay, so, two asteroids. Both comm stations. Both rigged with countdowns. Ahsoka took one, I took the other. Mine went routine. Ahsoka ran out of time. I ordered a retreat, but the thing blew while they were still too close, so I kind of—" he lifted his hands, cupping them as if holding a large ball "—in the Force."

Master Windu blinked at him slowly, his holo-image shimmering with static that only emphasized his absolute stillness. "And then you were unconscious."

"Yeah, sort of. I kind of blew out. I was conscious but just — not in my body."

"Where were you, if not in your body?"

"In the Force?" Anakin shrugged. "At least that's what it feels like."

"I see," said Master Windu, like he didn't see at all. "You knew this would happen?"

"I had no idea what would happen. But I couldn't let them die when I could stop it."

"Some things are not within your control, Anakin."

Hearing Master Windu actually use his first name forced Anakin to sit up. Dragging a hand down his face, Anakin cocked his head at Master Windu's holo. "You just got done telling me that I'm the one irreplaceable key to winning the war."

"I never said that."

Disapproval darkened Master Windu's tone, but Anakin just raised a weary eyebrow. "You kind of did."

Master Windu looked at him evenly. "You are not alone, Skywalker."

"Then why is it always _me_? Seriously, Master Windu. If I hadn't saved Ahsoka and my men, who else would have?" he demanded, frustration rising. "If I don't take Commenor, who will? If I hadn't stopped Grievous at Alderaan? If I hadn't won on Praesitlyn? If I hadn't upgraded the _Venators_?" It went further back, all the way to that droid control ship he'd destroyed over Naboo when he was just a kid, and much further. All his life Anakin had been driven by a constant, imperceptible pressure, knowing that he had to be faster, stronger, smarter, better. If he failed, people died.

"I'm almost certain that it's not _just_ you holding the galaxy together, Skwalker."

Master Windu spoke ironically, and he probably wasn't thinking about the Force planet that had kidnapped Ahsoka and Anakin a while ago, but his words rang unpleasant bells in Anakin's mind. The strange Force being calling himself the Father had insisted that it was Anakin's responsibility to tame both Light and Darkness, leash them and bring them to heel like obedient kaadu. When he'd reported the experience, Master Windu had said it was likely just some kind of shared vision. Anakin wasn't so sure if he agreed.

The Father was dead now, but, vision or not, it seemed like the galaxy kept finding new ways to hammer his message into Anakin's skull in every day.

The Chosen One.

Anakin was _trying_ , but he had always known deep down in his heart that he could never live up to that title. He could never be fast enough or strong enough to save everyone. No matter how many victories he won, he would never stop the suffering. He couldn't be everywhere, and so even his successes came at the cost of the successes he could have achieved elsewhere. Everything he did, even the good things, was a mistake if you flipped it over and looked at the other side. On some level, it made him feel like, since he could never truly win anyway — why not prioritize what _he_ wanted?

Anakin's hands had clenched into fists. He was glad Master Windu was lightyears away. Hopefully, he couldn't sense the smoldering despair building inside Anakin's chest. Struggling to keep his voice empty of bitterness, he said, "I promise you, it's not my ego talking. Sometimes I'd give anything to not have all this— riding on me."

What would life be like if he were just a normal person? Sometimes Anakin thought about it, daydreaming about a world in which he could make mistakes and it wouldn't matter to anyone. Where he could do what he wanted, just because he wanted to do it, and come home to Padme at the end of the day. It was a glorious fantasy, but only that.

Looking at it in the harsh daylight, Anakin knew that if he had been born normal, he would have lived and died a slave.

"Sometimes," said Master Windu dryly.

Anakin grinned, sharp and false. "It's _mostly_ not my ego talking."

Master Windu was right. There had never really been any chance of escape for him, so it was better this way. This way, he at least had the power to save some.

Mind spinning away into dark corners, Anakin was taken aback when Master Windu said, "So. Tell me again why you _need_ to go with Obi-Wan."

"Because," said Anakin. He had nothing planned to say after that, but to his surprise, the words fell into place as if they had always been there. "I'm afraid that if I let him go, I won't ever see him again."

Master Windu folded his hands into his sleeves again. It was hard to tell through the blue lines of the holo, but Anakin thought his eyes almost smiled. "Traveling through safe territory toward the Core, it's unlikely anything too terrible will happen."

Terrible things happened everywhere. Master Windu knew that just as well as he did.

"But it _could_. And if I was there, I could stop it. But since I won't be there—" Anakin cut himself off, horrified at how his eyes had begun to sting with moisture. Not this _again_. He felt brittle, like a cracked piece of pottery someone hadn't quite mended the right way.

"You sound almost superstitious."

"No. I just know that I couldn't take it if something happened to him. Not a second time," said Anakin, raw and plaintive. He cleared his throat, fighting for control. "Not when I could stop it."

"That is what you have to realize, Anakin. If it happened, you couldn't have stopped it." Master Windu's voice was very quiet. "Not by being somewhere else. Not by doing something differently. You are where you are. You do your best. No matter how powerful you are, that's all you can ever do."

Anakin let out a long, harsh breath that only wasn't a scream because there was no sound. Trusting the Force was one thing, but what if the Force didn't want the same things he wanted? The future wasn't set in kriffing stone. If he could know something ahead of time, he could be in the right place when it happened. He could stop it. Master Windu said he could only do his best, but what if his best was infinite?

"If I had known—"

"But you didn't. You don't," said Master Windu, gentle but unyielding. "You listen to the Force. You go where it leads you. You do what you can, where you are, because that's the only place you can be. The only place you could have been." He was speaking in the most simple sentences, as if Anakin were a youngling just learning about the Force.

"What if I don't know _what_ the Force is telling me?" Blinking rapidly, Anakin willed his body to stop trembling, his muscles to relax, his eyes to dry. Nothing seemed to obey him.

"You do your best."

His best wasn't _enough_. There had to be more.

Anakin wasn't confused — he was afraid. The Force was clear in this instance. When he could find it and push his own noise away enough to hear, it was often clear, like it had just been waiting for him to ask. Listening was the hard part, because sometimes the Force wanted sacrifices Anakin wasn't willing to give, and he was afraid, afraid, afraid. How could he give up the control that kept himself and everyone he loved safe? Any Jedi would tell him that control was an illusion, but in Anakin's experience it was the most real thing in the galaxy.

"Anakin?" It was Obi-Wan's concerned voice, and he padded into the room as quietly as a shadow. "I can feel that something's upsetting you."

With that, Anakin's last thread of composure dissolved, and hot tears began spilling down his cheeks. He made a noise that was half growl, half sob and pressed the heels of both his hands over his eyes. When he felt Obi-Wan touch gentle fingers to his head, stroking through his hair comfortingly, Anakin gave up on ever finding his serenity again.

"Hello, Mace," said Obi-Wan pleasantly. "What are you doing to my padawan?"

Anakin could feel the undercurrent of threat there, where part of Obi-Wan was not joking at all. When Master Windu responded, the smile in his voice was obvious, and Anakin knew he had read Obi-Wan's tone as well. "It's good to see you, Obi-Wan. It's been a while."

Turning in his chair, Anakin wrapped his arms around Obi-Wan's waist and pressed his face into his master's stomach. He figured he might as well, since he couldn't seem to stop leaking water regardless. Both of Obi-Wan's hands came to rest on his head, and Anakin couldn't _imagine_ letting him fly away all alone.

"I want to go with you to Coruscant," Anakin said indistinctly into Obi-Wan's tunic.

Obi-Wan did not stop stroking his hair. "Then come."

"I can't."

"Then don't."

This time, Anakin definitely growled. "But I _want_ to."

"Honestly, Anakin." Taking a fistful of the curls at Anakin's nape, Obi-Wan tugged softly. "I don't think this is actually as hard as you are making it."

Anakin heard Master Windu's quiet laugh, but he had grinned through his tears himself so he couldn't be too irritated. In retaliation, Anakin pressed his head hard against Obi-Wan's ribs. "You are so _intolerably_ annoying and I'm so _happy_ you're not dead."

"I suppose," said Obi-Wan, "that I might as well take that as a compliment."

Anakin sighed, turning so that he could look at Master Windu. He had been watching Obi-Wan thoughtfully, but his gaze fell to meet Anakin's eyes. Hopefully, the monochromatic holo didn't transmit the blotchiness of Anakin's face.

"I can't let him go alone, Master Windu," Anakin said, voice low. Against his cheek, he felt the rise and fall of his master's soundless exhale. Obi-Wan thought he was being ridiculous, he knew, but _he_ hadn't had to deal with the aftermath of his death. He didn't know what it was like. The actual dying was the easy part.

Master Windu just raised his eyebrows, amused, like he was still waiting for Anakin to catch a clue. "Like I said, Skywalker, you're not alone. No one said he had to be, either."

Leaning back, Anakin tilted his head to look up at Obi-Wan and frowned slightly at how white and drawn he was. Anakin had expected to be harried at least a little about his excessive worry, but Obi-Wan just let his hand drop away from Anakin's hair and waited.

"Ahsoka can go," Anakin realized.

When he reached for her, he found her just beyond the room. "I asked her to wait outside," explained Obi-Wan, and Anakin nodded, distracted. Having Ahsoka accompany Obi-Wan back to the Temple wasn't as good as going himself, but it would be at least something. She had long since proven that, with or without his help, she was an excellent Jedi and a clever warrior. Surely they would be safer together.

"You may also want to note the relative positions of your respective destinations," said Master Windu.

"Cartao?" Anakin wasn't sure he knew where exactly it was.

"That's not so far off the Perlemian Trade Route."

There was no reason for Obi-Wan to know that either, but it was foolish to expect Obi-Wan not to know a thousand useless things. "Is it not?" Anakin spun in his chair, scowling. The Perlemian Trade Route was the massive hyperlane anyone traveling from Centares to Coruscant would have to take for most of the journey, and apparently it ran by Cartao as well? It was just like Master Windu to let him spin totally out of control while sitting on an obvious solution. "Why didn't you just say that in the first place?"

"You seemed determined to fight about something," said Master Windu, sounding bored. "Why didn't you look up your orders before calling to yell at me?"

Chagrined, Anakin retorted, " _You_ were the one who wouldn't let me finish what I was trying to say."

"Skywalker, you couldn't follow a train of thought right now if your life depended on it. I was doing us both a favor."

Obi-Wan watched this exchange with growing incredulity, eyebrows climbing higher as Anakin sputtered. "I'm fine!" he said. "You've just gotten too used to being on the Council. Can't handle letting anyone else have the last word."

Master Windu gave Anakin a pitying look. "I suggest you spend several of your travel days sleeping. I'm serious, Skywalker. If you tried to take a sentience test right now, you would fail it."

Anakin huffed, but for once decided that it was time to retire from the field before being embarrassed any further. "How long is the trip to Cartao?"

Tilting his head at Obi-Wan, Master Windu deferred the question, probably because he just wanted to test whether Obi-Wan knew.

"Two or so days in a straight shot," said Obi-Wan. "That much we can travel together. From there to Coruscant the route is slightly more complicated."

"More so than you know," Master Windu agreed grimly. Since the Separatists had taken a chunk out of the Inner Rim, travel times to the Core had gotten a lot longer.

"We can figure it out on the _Resolute_." Anakin would have two more days with Obi-Wan, and then Ahsoka would escort him the rest of the way to Coruscant. It wasn't what he wanted, but it was enough to calm his panic. He would have enough time to make sure Obi-Wan knew he wasn't abandoning him.

"Yes, after you've slept. I doubt you can even read your own name at this point, much less a map."

Anakin rolled his eyes. Yes, ha-ha. Master Windu had reminded him already that he needed to better manage his physical body if he wanted to better manage his emotions. It was getting old, and he knew from experience that Master Windu wasn't even close to running out of creatively scathing things to say.

"Look, I'm sorry. With the asteroid and the stim shot and everything—" He shrugged, shifting awkwardly. "I knew I wasn't in a good headspace. I should have taken a step back and read the orders. I'll do better, Master Windu."

"I know you will, Skywalker." Master Windu inclined his head, and then returned to his usual brusqueness. "Are we done?"

"Think so. We're returning to the fleet and should be able to deploy within the hour."

"Good. I'll be in contact."

"May the Force be with you," said Obi-Wan automatically, and Master Windu nearly smiled at him.

"It _is_ good to see you, Obi-Wan," he repeated. "May the Force be with you."

Artoo cut the transmission, and Anakin sagged in his chair. Rubbing his eyes, he groaned and began painfully unfolding himself from the seat. "We are good to leave?" he asked. "You squared it with the civilians?"

Obi-Wan took a step back, watching Anakin stretch with an unreadable expression. "Yes. There's still the HoloNet welcoming committee outside, but that's all."

"No problem. Let's get out of here." He patted Artoo's dome. Obi-Wan said nothing, still staring at him, gaze level and incomprehensible, and Anakin was suddenly uncertain. His master's mind was turning in thought, but for all his thin shields, Anakin couldn't even begin to guess what he was thinking about. "What?"

Obi-Wan's eyes narrowed slightly. "You _apologized_."

"I mean, yeah," Anakin said, hesitating. "I lost it. I was out of line. Why?"

After another second, Obi-Wan shook his head. He moved away, both physically and in the bond, pushing down whatever had caught his attention. "We should go."

"No, what, Master?"

Anakin followed him. He wasn't content to be brushed off and meant to drag whatever it was out of Obi-Wan, but then Ahsoka was there. She had leaned against the wall to wait for them and pushed herself upright, working hard to broadcast brightness. Expectant, she looked from Obi-Wan to Anakin, searching for some cue to take, but Anakin was confused and Obi-Wan was still undecipherable.

"You ready to go, Snips?"

"Absolutely," she said, trying not to be obvious about how she was eyeing him. "Did you call a larty?"

"Not yet."

Starting toward the front of the clinic, Anakin punched Master Plo's channel into his wrist comm. Ahsoka and Obi-Wan fell in behind him and, as he listened for his comm, he heard her say something to him in the background. A furtive question about how someone was doing, but Anakin couldn't tell if she was asking about him or about Obi-Wan himself.

Obi-Wan's quiet answer could have applied to either one.

"As well as can be expected."


	18. Fine

Anakin kept an uneasy eye out a partially-uncovered transparisteel window. It wasn't as easy to tell since the sun had almost set, but he thought the crowd of journalists outside had grown. The hovercams hung in groups like swarms of giant, glowing insects. A LAAT/i had arrived to pick them up, but was forced to maintain a holding pattern overhead, since the street was clogged with a throng of beings.

Making a frustrated noise, Anakin said, "All right, I'm going out there to clear us a landing space."

"You sure that's a good idea?" asked Ahsoka. Anakin was, of all possible Jedi, certainly the one they most wanted to see.

"Do _you_ want to do it?" Ahsoka just winced in response, and he turned to Obi-Wan. His master had taken one glance out the window, but still seemed disinterestedly preoccupied. "When the ship lands, I'll make a path and I want you both through and in as quickly as possible. Master, you should wear the cloak when you come out. Don't let them see your face."

Ahsoka nodded, but Obi-Wan's gaze stayed vaguely fixed on nothing, his thumb pressing under his chin in absent habit.

"Obi-Wan?"

When Obi-Wan blinked and met his eyes, Anakin was surprised by the weight of his own relief.

"Hm? Yes, I heard you." He tugged Anakin's cloak down from where he still had it draped over his shoulder.

"Right now, the Separatists still think you're dead. That's an advantage I think we should keep as long as possible," Anakin explained. Supposedly Ventress was out of the picture if their intel was correct, but Anakin wasn't willing to bet on that, and Dooku had always had a particular, concerning interest in Obi-Wan as well.

Pulling the cloak around his shoulders, Obi-Wan gave him a perfunctory nod, like he didn't care and wasn't sure why Anakin hadn't moved on yet. Anakin was beginning to get that familiar, creeping feeling that something important had changed, but he had missed it and fallen behind, as always. Pressing into the bond got him a genuine reaction, but it was one of irritation.

"I believe your adoring fans are waiting," said Obi-Wan, the edge in his voice making Anakin bristle.

Fine.

Anakin had only two faces he ever showed to the media. One was the cocky swagger and wicked grin of the Hero With No Fear. They always ate that up, to an almost embarrassing extent. Padme had definitely replayed a few of his interviews over and over, gleefully repeating the news anchors' fawning commentary in ever-more-dramatic tones, until she almost couldn't breathe for laughing and he had to cover his face with the pillows to hide his blush.

The second face was the stone mask of a soldier meeting his enemy. They didn't like that one quite as much.

The moment Anakin cleared the clinic doorway, he stood in the middle of a blinding spotlight, the focus of a score of hovercams. He felt his scowl deepening as the journalists pressed into his space, crying out questions, each fighting to be the closest to him.

"HEY!" he shouted, voice cutting through the din like the crack of a vibrowhip.

"Jedi Skywalker, according to an official press release this morning, the 12th Sector Army is pulling out of the system! Has there been a change?" yelled a tall Gran.

"I have a statement to make." Anakin waited until they had subsided to a general murmur and then announced, "You all need to clear the street for twenty yards on either side of me. Otherwise, I am going to land a larty on your heads."

"Do you know anything about the troop movements near Kaikielius?" called someone else.

Yeah, he hadn't really expected that to work, but he'd tried to give them a chance anyway. Rocking up onto the balls of his feet, Anakin jumped.

There was an instant uproar when he seemed to vanish, disappearing from the spotlight faster than the hovercams' sensors could track. The LAAT/i above was an invisible bulk, indistinguishable from the dark sky except for the tiny navigation lights on the end of each wing. Cool air rushed past Anakin's face as he leapt upwards, flying through the night toward where the Force told him the transport waited.

His aim was true, if a little awkward. He had meant to land on top of center spine of the ship, near the cockpit, but instead came down on the edge of the starboard wing. Making his way up the wing and then down the spine to his original destination, he hailed the pilot on his comm. "Transport Five-One-Five, this is General Skywalker. Open your starboard troop hold hatch."

"Negative, General. We are still unable to land due to civilian presence."

"I didn't ask you to land. I said open the door."

"...Yes, sir."

Below him, Anakin heard the hiss of the one-person hatch being opened. He dropped over the side of the ship and down onto the grating in front of the door, but didn't step through into the ship itself.

"Should we assume that minor disturbance on our stabilizer's readout was you, General?"

Gripping one of the handholds set into the metal skin of the LAAT/i, Anakin leaned out and over the empty space, eyeing the street below. "Yep," he told the pilots. "Take us down, but do it extremely slowly."

"You got it, General."

They descended in steady lurches. Hanging out the side, Anakin watched their progress carefully. There was a limit to how slowly and how evenly a LAAT/i would be able to land like this; they were not, technically, vertical take-off and landing craft. With creative use of thruster orientation and drag fins, though, the pilot was doing a decent job of faking it.

"Hit the floodlights, Transport Five-One-Five."

Wide beams of white light instantly ripped away the blanket of night, illuminating the gunship as it dropped lower. Finally noticing the precarious position they were in, the beings in the street still spent several minutes pointing and shouting and probably taking holovid footage before deciding to actually move. When they did, though, it was fun to watch them scramble. If only the Separatists would react like that.

Of course, there were inevitably a few who tripped and fell or otherwise failed to make it out of the way in time, forcing Anakin to leap down and help them himself. It somewhat spoiled the climax of the landing.

As soon as the LAAT/i had settled onto the ground, Anakin standing between it and the clinic, the braver and more determined beings began to press back in. Casually, Anakin pulled his lightsaber from his belt and ignited it. He held it loosely, with no visible intent, the tapered blue plasma of its tip dipping toward the ground, but it was enough to make everyone freeze in place. A Jedi with a lit 'saber was not something to approach lightly.

On cue, while the street hung in that long instant of arrested immobility, Obi-Wan and Ahsoka emerged from the clinic and walked quickly to the ship, Artoo trundling at their heels. Ahsoka was unmistakable, nearly as familiar to the galactic media as Anakin, but Obi-Wan was just an indistinct figure in a cloak. Between one blink and the next they were there and gone and, as if nothing had happened, Anakin put his lightsaber away.

Bowing solemnly to the crowd, Anakin said into his comm, "Take us home, Transport Five-One-Five."

"Copy that, General."

As the LAAT/i's engines began to fire, Anakin listened to the rising hum of curiosity and intensity in the Force. Hovercams pushed forward, circling the LAAT/i and zooming over Anakin's head while the reporters themselves hesitated. Searching for what he wanted, Anakin asked the Force and heard it answer. Its whisper showed him where and then, a second later — _when_.

Anakin sprang toward the point the Force had given him, back-flipping up and sideways just as the gunship's thrusters fired it forward to meet his leap. In the place where nothing had been, the LAAT/i's grating was thrust under his feet, and Anakin landed just in time to grab the handrail and be swept away into the sky.

For a moment he stayed there, leaning out and letting the wind pull at his hair as the ship climbed. The pilot had killed the lights and the people below were first tiny, then indistinguishable, and then the streets themselves ceased to be streets and became abstract patterns drawn by a gigantic hand. Up ahead were the denser lights of the city center, but even those shrunk to a mere pinpoint as the LAAT/i peeled away from the planet, heading for the Star Destroyers that waited for them in the upper atmosphere.

They were finally done on Centares.

Anakin stepped back from the edge, into the warm silence of the ship's belly, and punched the door shut behind him. In their dormant position, the two retractable "bubble" turrets took up most of the floorspace in the main hold; complaining steadily, Artoo waited in the short hall that separated the front compartments from the troop hold, since the turrets were too big for him to get past. "I know, buddy, but think of it this way: you'll be the first one to get out when we land," Anakin said as he edged his way between the turrets to where Obi-Wan and Ahsoka had taken two of the stern seats.

Obi-Wan had leaned back against the wall, but lifted his head when Anakin approached. Anakin was sure he was going to chide him about a Jedi only igniting his lightsaber when he was ready to take a life, not as a crowd control glowstick, but Obi-Wan only said, "Still theatrical, I see."

Crossing his arms, Anakin spread his feet apart to keep balance on the ship's decking. He tried never to use the hand-straps if at all possible. "You know me, Master," he said, giving Obi-Wan a crooked smile.

"I thought you were kidding about action footage of us leaving," said Ahsoka.

Anakin shrugged. "You gotta make 'em look where you're not." He'd given them enough flashy footage of him backflipping to hopefully distract them from spending too much time speculating about what he had actually been doing in the Skrell District.

Ahsoka seemed to accept this. "Should I let Master Plo know we're on our way?"

"No, I'll contact the _Courageous_ from the bridge. We'll need to coordinate with the admirals anyway."

"Should I take that to mean you're back on full duty?"

"Yes."

"Not taking Master Windu's advice, then?" Obi-Wan had closed his eyes, which didn't stop him from making inconvenient interjections.

Helpfully, Ahsoka said, "If you want, I can keep supervising—"

"I know." She had coordinated their part of the deployment, and she and Rex were more than able to look after the 501st for an uneventful day or two in hyperspace, but these were his responsibilities, and Anakin had things he needed to do as well. Wasting valuable downtime didn't sit well with him, and he eyed Obi-Wan. "We'll see what Neo says."

Ahsoka made a face like she was impressed he had ceded even that much control, but she was laying it on a little thick. Anakin, as he had said earlier, was perfectly reasonable. Partially out of annoyance and partially because he thought it might tempt Obi-Wan to comment, Anakin began quizzing Ahsoka about what she knew of their deployment orders. What kind of planet was Cartao? What were its resources, and who controlled it? What resistance were they likely to expect?

Unfortunately, she didn't have much information, the detailed orders having come in when she was busy babysitting him at the clinic. Obi-Wan stayed quiet, as if he had fallen asleep against the bulkhead, even though Anakin could sense the opaque movement of his thoughts. Unsuccessful all around. Letting the useless line of questioning drop, Anakin stood and tried to center himself.

He was always trying to outrun his emotions — it seemed like half the time they shot straight to his body, translated into frenetic movement before they ever even made an appearance in his brain. Why did he feel like things were spiraling out of control now, when everything seemed to be going right? Why did he feel so urgent, like he was on some kind of a countdown?

His time with Obi-Wan was counting down, of course. He had a few days and, after they elapsed, who knew when they would see each other again? But — why would this be a source of disquiet? There was no pressing danger, no duty left unfulfilled... was there? He had started feeling this uneasiness after signing off with Master Windu. You apologized, Obi-Wan had said.

Anakin's racing thoughts stilled. His rigid posture relaxed slightly. What had he spent all this time telling himself he would do if he had his master back? He hadn't done it yet. He had two days.

Alighting inside the _Resolute_ , their transport was met by no one but the hangar's chief technician. All the other LAAT/is and transports and fighters were locked down and dormant, all the men off-shift or assigned to the maintenance and prep tasks that would keep them busy in hyperspace — the expectant, poised hum of a Star Destroyer between missions. They had probably been waiting, ready to launch, all day.

By the time Anakin's boot touched the decking, a flow of purpose had drowned the anxiety trying to take root. "We have to go to the medbay," said Anakin, when Obi-Wan and Ahsoka followed him. "After that, the bridge. Snips, will you find Rex and meet me there?" Rex might already be on the bridge, but since they had had to wait for so long, he could be anywhere.

"Assuming you mean the bridge and not the medbay, yeah, sure."

They exchanged a routine set of expressions, one unimpressed and one full of wide-eyed innocence, and then Ahsoka left for the turbolift across the hangar. Artoo caught up with her, warbling, and she said, "Sure, Artoo, of course you can come. Think you could plug into one of these ports and find Rex for me?"

When Anakin gestured at the nearer turbolift and moved toward it, though, Obi-Wan delayed. "Anakin, I really would prefer to rest," he said. "I seem to remember saying something about a shower. Surely we could visit the medbay a little later?"

"It's only going to take a minute, Master. We really should do this first, just in case."

"Just in case, what, my frail constitution gives out and I suddenly collapse?" Obi-Wan said scathingly, as if Anakin were being irrational and overbearing.

"Just in case," Anakin repeated, trying not to be sharp in response. "Besides, our medbay needs to collect a file on you to send to the Temple. We're not going to just drop you off like, 'Something of medical note has obviously happened to this Jedi — have fun guessing what, Master Che!'"

"I think I can probably relate my own experiences to the healers."

Obi-Wan was veering from what he'd originally said, tone still argumentative, and Anakin's jaw tightened in frustration. Obi-Wan had never been one to fight fair, so maybe these were just maneuvers, part of the campaign to avoid going to the medbay, but on the other hand, Anakin couldn't just dismiss the possibility that something was still wrong. "So you remember absolutely everything, then?" he shot back.

"I remember," said Obi-Wan, bracing his forehead with one hand, "too much."

Startled, Anakin let the silence lie, quieting the air and their bond until he could breathe it in. He listened to the tiny eddies of the Force, like faint notes of music just beyond the edge of his hearing. Obi-Wan had asked to rest. That in and of itself was remarkable. When he spoke, it was only to say, "Please, Master."

The look Obi-Wan gave him was oddly unguarded, like he couldn't make sense of anything he was seeing.

Even more gently, Anakin said, "I promise, nobody's going to mess with you. Just take some vitals. That's all. Please?"

Still gazing at Anakin as if trying to see him through a fog, Obi-Wan dropped his hand. He sighed. "Fine."

The medbay was twelve decks up. In the turbolift, Obi-Wan braced himself against the wall and said nothing, his arms crossed under the cloak he still wore. The whole ride, Anakin grappled with himself. He wanted to touch Obi-Wan — push away whatever was clouding his master's thoughts with his presence — but Obi-Wan had never really been in favor of what he would have called Anakin's "clinginess." With the way he was holding himself apart, like it took all his concentration, Anakin was afraid to chance it.

Instead, he tried to compromise, staying in his own space, but leaning into the bond. It was a move both riskier and less risky — rejection was less likely, but a rejection would be worse.

"I'm fine, Anakin," said Obi-Wan, voice still sharp, but he opened himself to Anakin's prodding, and Anakin did not miss the way his master's body relaxed slightly when the Force began to flow between them.

With only a hint of smugness, Anakin said, "Yeah, me too."

Obi-Wan was no less exasperated, but Anakin didn't mind. He felt how Obi-Wan leaned on him in the Force, even as he kept physically distant on the walk to the medbay. They passed several medical technicians in tense discussions over a holotable, but for the most part the place was still. For the next several days it would remain that way, but soon Anakin knew they would be up to their ears in the wounded and dying. The thought was tiring.

Neo wasn't in his office, but with a quick Force probe Anakin was able to locate him in one of the supply rooms with another clone, a corporal. "General, I'm glad to see you made it back." To the corporal, he said, "Finish up here, and then report to me in my office."

"Yes, Commander."

Nodding at Anakin and Obi-Wan, Neo asked, "What can I do for you, General?"

"Just looking for a basic physical check-up, Commander. And to, uh, finalize a report on that slave implant, if you've got a minute."

"Of course. Follow me."

Neo didn't seem surprised, or ask who Obi-Wan was, or say anything more. He just led them to a private cube in the main bay, picking up a datapad along the way. Clearly sensing that Obi-Wan didn't want to engage with this experience any more than necessary, Anakin didn't introduce him or make him talk. Inside the patient cube, a medical droid was sitting dormant in front of a table.

Obi-Wan sighed.

"We are not equipped to be able to do any in-depth neurological tests or scans," Neo warned. "The most I'll be able to determine is whether there is any obvious physical damage."

"That's fine. Just a general health check, and maybe a tox screen?" Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows, obviously of the opinion that a tox screen was excessive, but Anakin only shrugged back at him. "I mean, _you_ know Ventress, Master. Better safe than sorry."

As Neo activated the medical droid and gave it instructions, Obi-Wan leaned back against the table. "Oh, I'm already sorry."

"If it makes you feel any better, next time I can leave you where I find you," said Anakin, while drowning the bond in the exact opposite thought. There would never be a next time, and Anakin would never leave his master. Obi-Wan might be exhausted, confused, annoyed, and being enigmatically prickly, but he was here. He was fighting a losing battle if he thought he could provoke Anakin into bickering at this point.

"You did give me that option," Obi-Wan mused, but his thoughts were elsewhere. Anakin caught a glimpse of sun-glare on sand, and of a woman's back in a green tunic, but couldn't guess what he was remembering.

"Yes, I did, so you're going to have to suck it up and face the consequences."

"Good evening," said the med droid. "Please have a seat and I will begin your health scan."

Obi-Wan stared it down like an opponent in a duel. "I would prefer to stand."

"Very well. Please raise one arm."

"Oh kriff," Anakin stage-whispered, faking a gasp. "I think it's going to measure your blood pressure."

Narrowing his eyes at Anakin and Neo, who was observing with politely veiled interest, Obi-Wan said, "Don't you have some business to discuss?"

Anakin crossed his arms, shrugging again. Neo took his datapad out from where he'd tucked it under his arm, palming it open, but Anakin didn't look away until the droid had begun its examination. When he turned to the waiting commander, Anakin was reminded suddenly that he had promised to follow up with Kamino about the next generation of armor. Force, there was so much to do. He felt close to losing track of everything.

Pulling the OEI reader from its place in one of his belt pockets, Anakin held it out. "Can we gather all the info we have about the implant and transmit it to the Jedi Temple?"

"Not a problem." Neo quickly transferred the entry from the mapper to his datapad. "I'll compile it with the results of this scan. Is there any other medical data you have? Anything from the removal procedure? Did you happen to preserve the implant itself?"

"Sithspit," hissed Anakin, kicking himself. How obvious, and yet it hadn't even crossed his mind at the time to save the implant. "No, I didn't."

"Likely it doesn't matter, but we can send a request to the clinic that performed the procedure just to cover our bases."

"Uh..." Trying to imagine what Irenia would think about receiving such a requisition from the GAR made Anakin wince. He also found that he couldn't remember the name of the clinic, even though he knew he had heard it at one point.

Eyeing him, Neo said, "I'll have it taken care of. There was some kind of media commotion there, I understand, so it should be easy enough. I'll need at least a general account of what happened, though."

"Yeah, of course. I'll be making my own report too, obviously."

In a quiet voice, Anakin filled Neo in on the situation. He gave a sketchy description of how Obi-Wan had been presumed dead, Anakin's suspicions of the torture he'd experienced, and what he had learned about Obi-Wan's amnesia. He tried to dwell more on the surgery to remove the implant, and what Obi-Wan had experienced during the procedure, with Neo asking occasional clarifying questions. Some Anakin could answer, and some he couldn't. It really would have been better for Obi-Wan to give this account himself, but the way he was just barely restraining himself from dismantling the med droid with his bare hands hinted that that wasn't such a good idea.

When the droid announced that it had finished its exam, Obi-Wan said sharply, "Thank the Force."

"Results?" demanded Neo.

"Adult human male, physically and cognitively responsive, but underweight and moderately malnourished," reported the droid cheerfully. "Tox screen clean. Blood pressure slightly elevated, signs of muscle damage. Recommend increasing calorie intake according to graduated schedule C-51F, vitamin supplement B1, vitamin supplement B2, vitamin supplement B3—"

"Yes, thank you. Send your findings to the main computer." Neo cut off what was certain to be a lengthy recitation. "General Kenobi, we can begin the process of correcting your nutrition immediately, but beyond that, I don't think we are qualified to comment on any possible impact you may experience from the implant removal. How do you feel?"

"Fine," said Obi-Wan. "Immediately after waking everything seemed... chaotic, but I think at the moment things are where they should be. Physically, I don't notice anything in particular, except that I am extremely tired."

The way Obi-Wan replied, frank and honest, had Anakin double-taking. Oh, sure, Neo got the full rundown when he asked, but whenever Anakin expressed any kind of concern it was met with various shades of frosty hostility.

"And how is your experience of the Force?"

Obi-Wan gave Neo a questioning look, as if wondering why he would ask when it wasn't likely he would understand the answer. "It is— uneven. Sometimes I feel that I can barely access the Force, and sometimes it is overwhelming and far too strong."

Neo nodded, making a note on his datapad.

"You never told me that," Anakin accused.

"You didn't ask, Anakin," said Obi-Wan tolerantly, like he was speaking to a child. "Are we done here?"

"Yes," Neo answered. "I'll have these compiled and sent to Coruscant for the Jedi Healers."

"Thank you," said Anakin.

Still addressing Obi-Wan, Neo quickly went over the food habits he wanted him to follow for the next several days until they reached the Temple, eating a base amount of calories in small increments throughout the day. The macronutrient balance was specific too, but Jedi were thoroughly educated on how to care for and strengthen their bodies, and Anakin knew the guidelines were quite familiar to Obi-Wan. Neo also warned against overexertion.

"Even if you feel normal, keep in mind that your body has been through a massive shock. You will likely not have the energy reserves you are used to having," he said, reminding Anakin of something he was supposed to ask.

"Oh, by the way — I'm cleared for duty, right?"

The automatic, obvious answer Anakin had expected didn't come, as Neo surveyed him steadily for a long minute. "You don't need my permission to return to your post, General, but if you're asking for my recommendation — you should rest."

"But I feel fine!"

Shrugging like it wasn't any of his affair, Neo said, "How was the come-down from the stim shot?"

Anakin hesitated.

"We are about to launch a massive assault that may not let up for months. Jedi powers notwithstanding, I doubt very much that you are fully recovered because you took one nap. As our general, we rely on you having access to all your abilities and judgment when you lead us in battle. Why not take the rare chance to rest, when you have no idea when you will get another?" asked Neo. "I promise you, it's what the men are doing."

While this was obviously a well-crafted bit of manipulation, Anakin couldn't deny that it also made solid sense. His list of things to do was still piling up and he hated to just waste time when he felt all right, but... he had told Ahsoka he would consult Neo.

"Yes, Anakin," said Obi-Wan, eyes bright with mischief. "Just in case."

Overpowering the smile that wanted to fill him from the inside out, Anakin scowled at his master instead. He mimicked Obi-Wan's voice from earlier, saying, "Fine."

When they left the medbay, Anakin reminded himself that he still had to get in touch with Shaak Ti. He also needed to talk to Ahsoka about several things. And type up his report of everything that had happened in the last few days. And... he really needed to talk to Obi-Wan. He hadn't had much of a chance to yet, but he knew he couldn't let Obi-Wan fly away without doing it.

But what would he say? Thinking about it after Obi-Wan's death, everything he wanted to say to his master, everything he should have said but never did, had seemed so clear and obvious. While drifting off to sleep, he had filled his head with the imaginary conversations they would have, if only he could see Obi-Wan one more time. Now, Anakin snuck looks at Obi-Wan as they walked side by side, and couldn't even begin to distill what he was feeling into words.

In trying, the urge to reach out was tinged with a contradictory instinct to hide, shrink back. Each sentence he built seemed meaningless and clumsy, like something he would have said as a stupid teenager. He couldn't shake the vision of trying to speak, every word coming out wrong, and Obi-Wan silently watching him with eyebrows raised, nothing but contempt on his face.

When had he ever been afraid of Obi-Wan? Anakin remembered storing up a lot of anger against his master, but fear?

Now wasn't the time, anyway. Obi-Wan had made it pretty clear that he wanted to be done participating in life for the day, so Anakin would have time to think.

"I have to go to the bridge, Master. I'm assuming you don't want to come—"

Firmly, Obi-Wan said, "If I don't get to shower in the next ten minutes, I may have to hurt someone."

Anakin laughed. "That's what I thought."

The officers' quarters were on an upper deck on the way to the bridge, so it was easy enough to stop there first. Where the enlisted men slept in barracks, individual cabins were provided for the officers, and any occasional state passengers. Each one was tiny and identical, practically just enough room for a bunk and a sonic 'fresher the size of a closet.

Picking one of the unoccupied ones, Anakin palmed the door open.

"No print key?" observed Obi-Wan, but Anakin shook his head.

"This is my ship, Master. All the doors open for me."

"I see."

"But this is an unassigned room. Put your hand against it, and it should accept your print. Then I can confirm it for you. My room is down there—" he pointed "—and Ahsoka's is here."

The bio pad registered Obi-Wan's handprint, and blinked green momentarily after Anakin put in a code, making the room Obi-Wan's for the moment.

"Everything you need should be there," said Anakin, talking from nervous energy now. "Unless you need more clothes, then I have some more you can use. And I'll be around. I guess you can't comm me since you don't have a comm, but I'll probably be in my room, after I get back from the bridge obviously, for the next—"

His words dried up when Obi-Wan put a hand on his shoulder, leaving him blinking and sucking in a long breath. Just hours ago he had been practically holding Obi-Wan, so why did that slight pressure feel so profound?

"The odds are high that I will survive the night without you, Anakin," Obi-Wan said, a tired smile crinkling at the corners of his eyes. "Thank you."

"Yeah, sure, of course." Anakin ducked his head, but when Obi-Wan went to step away, he couldn't help but blurt, "Master?"

"Anakin?" said Obi-Wan in the same tone, cocking an eyebrow at him expectantly.

The teasing made Anakin smile, just a little. "Nothing. I just— I'm glad you're here. I missed you."

"Me too, Anakin," said Obi-Wan softly. He didn't say what, exactly, he was agreeing with, but he smiled back. "Goodnight."

"Night."

On his way to the bridge, Anakin checked the bond every couple of seconds. He wasn't obtrusive or anything — just running back over it in the Force, making sure it was still there. The main command bridge was at the top of the ship's starboard tower, so it was a long turbolift ride. The fighter control bridge was up there too, on the other tower, but Anakin had only been there a few times in all the long months he'd spent on the _Resolute_. During space battles, there was no point in being at fighter control when you could be in a fighter instead.

The command bridge, on the other hand, was so familiar he barely bothered to register it. Ahsoka and Rex stood with their backs to the central holotable, Ahsoka leaning against it and talking animatedly. No doubt she was narrating a colorful and mildly biased version of what had gone down planetside. Beyond them, he spotted Yularen on the walkway overseeing the crew pits; the panoramic viewport was already streaked with the elongated starbursts of hyperspace.

"We launched?"

Rex straightened slightly as he approached. Ahsoka did not.

"Yep!" Reaching behind herself with one elbow, Ahsoka jogged the holotable, activating its display. "We're on our way to Cartao. Master Plo left this transmission for you, and there's the recorded campaign notes from the Council. They planned a strategy meeting for tomorrow afternoon over hyperwave holo."

"All right. Thanks, Snips." Anakin had expected them to wait for him, but there was no need, really, and he hadn't yet revoked Ahsoka's temporary command.

"How is Master Kenobi?"

"Fine," said Anakin. "He's supposed to take it easy."

"Mm. That sounds like a great idea," said Ahsoka significantly.

He eyed her. "Yes, you can keep command — for now. I'm just going to make sure I'm up on everything and then I'm heading back down."

"What, really?"

"That's sixty credits you owe me now, sir," said Rex.

While Ahsoka made outraged noises and tried to argue the bet over some technicality, Anakin rolled his eyes and decided for once to be the mature one. He looked over their route, and studied the briefing information they had been given on the planet Cartao. It seemed like a pretty soft target, mostly just a preemptive move to get behind the Separatist supply lines and cut them off, and also secure the planet's resources before the main campaign. That would start when they struck inward at the Core Worlds that had become Separatist strongholds.

Fighting near the Core would be easier, in some ways, since they wouldn't have to worry about being far from resupply or reinforcements; it would also be extremely high-stakes, since most Core Worlds were densely populated, and any serious tactical mistake could endanger the very heart of the Republic. The campaign plan itself had undergone some changes since the last time he'd worked on it. He would have to take a closer look at those before tomorrow's meeting — but not now, Anakin told himself. He had said he would rest, although he couldn't help but wonder if Neo really understood how many responsibilities rested on his shoulders.

After checking in with Yularen and finding everything as it should be, Anakin made his way back to Ahsoka. "All good?" she asked, aiming for flippancy. It didn't quite cover the tiny sliver of anxiety Anakin could sense lurking beneath her outward confidence. Would he find something wrong with her arrangements during the withdrawal, or the launch?

"Perfect," he said. "About the campaign—"

"It looks like a massive one. Is this what you've been working on with the Council?"

"Some of it. When we get to Cartao, Obi-Wan is going to take a transport and head to Coruscant. My plan is to send you with him."

Surprised, Ahsoka frowned. "Are you sure? You might need me on this one."

"Probably," Anakin agreed, "but this assault is going to last more than a few days. You'll probably be back before we even get into the thick of it. The thing is, given the state of the Inner Rim these days, getting to Coruscant might be a little more complicated than usual. I want you to take a look at the charts and start thinking about the best routes."

"You got it, Master. Can we take the Twilight?"

Anakin hadn't really thought about it, but that was as good an idea as any. The freighter's anonymity would probably make them as safe as any weapon. "Sure, why not? But that means—"

"I know! I'll give it so much TLC, it'll be the best-running ship in our fleet."

"I'd like to see that," said Anakin, grinning. That old bucket of bolts had gotten them out of countless sticky situations and he had upgraded it far past its original specs, but it would never be able to match any of their military ships. "All right, I'm going. See you later, Snips."

"Hey, Master?"

"Yeah?" Anakin paused.

Gingerly, like she might be treading on forbidden ground, Ahsoka said, "Master Kenobi said something earlier about knowing where his lightsaber is? ...It's the one Ventress uses, isn't it?"

"Yes. It's not a problem, though. I'm gonna get it back."

Doubt prickled in the Force between them. "Well, if she's betrayed the Separatists, we might not see her again."

Anakin shook his head. "I don't believe that. Do you?" When Ahsoka just shrugged, he added, "My instincts tell me that we haven't seen the last of her."

"If you say so, Master."

It was a fight to shake free of the hatred that filled Anakin's lungs and drowned him whenever he thought of Ventress and her sneer and her taunts, but on his way back down to the officers' quarters, he did it. Anakin had done it many, many times since Obi-Wan's death. He still remembered the first time after Jabiim seeing her face-to-face on the battlefield. _Oh dear_ , she had said. _All on your own now, Skywalker?_

He had thought she was talking about his recent knighting, until she smiled at him and ignited her 'sabers. The one in her forehand had been her usual weapon, burning crimson with a curved handle, but the other had been _blue_. In an instant, all of Anakin's focus had narrowed to a single point, his ears deafened by a silent roar. He would recognize that lightsaber anywhere. His bones knew its hum.

That day had almost been a disaster for both of them — he had nearly killed her, but she had succeeded in drawing him away from the main battle. By the time he realized what was happening, it had been almost too late to save his men. Almost. Anakin had pulled out a last-minute victory at great cost by walking away from Ventress, and from Obi-Wan's lightsaber, and from his revenge. It had felt almost like losing Obi-Wan again, and he had thought perhaps the agony would burn his heart up into dust.

Since then, he had faced the same choice again and again. Refocusing was still a struggle, but by now it was also a habit. Ventress still had Obi-Wan's 'saber, but Anakin could wait. He knew that she wasn't meant to have it. The Force would send it back to its rightful owner. It was only a matter of time and, now that he had Obi-Wan back, nothing Ventress did could touch him anyway.

Reclaiming the lightsaber would just be a nice surprise for his master.

Stopping briefly outside Obi-Wan's door, Anakin only leaned into the bond a little to find Obi-Wan peacefully present. If he wasn't asleep yet, he was nearly there. Anakin moved on to his own cabin and didn't encroach any further.

When the door hissed shut behind him, Anakin toggled the lights to sixty percent. He raked his fingers through his hair and sighed, eyeing his bunk. It was a mess, the sheets and blankets tucked in according to Jedi discipline, but parts of a half-deconstructed droid motivator strewn over the top. He really didn't feel like sleeping. On a normal night, he wouldn't have even considered going to bed for hours, if he slept at all.

But he _had_ said he would rest.

Scooping up the motivator parts, Anakin moved them across the room to the desk he used as a makeshift workbench. He checked some of the smaller pieces, looking for something suitable for Ahsoka, but there was nothing really fitting. He would have to go through his drawers of spare parts, and maybe check in with maintenance if he had nothing here that would work...

He hesitated.

Maybe he could compromise. Just lying down could be considered rest — no one had said he had to actually sleep. He would use the time to make a list of everything he had to do, and if he still didn't feel tired after that was done, he would get up. That way he had given it an honest try, right? If he genuinely wasn't going to be able to sleep, even Neo would agree there was no point in wasting that time doing nothing.

He took off his boots and lined them up at the foot of the bed, but didn't bother changing out of anything else. Anakin dropped onto his bunk, lying on his back, and had to admit it did feel good to at least get off his feet. Spinning his comm to the inside of his wrist, he held it up in front of his face and made a numbered list. He pondered the next couple of days and what would need to be done for the upcoming campaign, and the things he had put off doing over the past day or so, both personal tasks and military ones.

Anakin jotted seven things down easily, but was asleep before he could add an eighth.

He slept like a rock. There was no hazy dozing, just a slumber so deep and complete that it was like death. He knew nothing, no dream or sound or sensation, until he found himself suddenly on the floor. Anakin's elbow slammed painfully into the deck and he landed awkwardly on his arm, coming wildly awake in one moment where he had no idea who or where he was.

The lights were still on, and everything hurt.

Rolling over and half-sitting, Anakin could only squint at his comm in dazed confusion. It was a few hours into the ship's night cycle. He had no messages. What did that mean? His head pounded, an awful pressure behind his eyes, like before, when he woke up with Obi-Wan, and his body thrilled with adrenaline.

What—?

Alarm ripped through the Force, a silent cry from somewhere nearby, and Anakin scrambled to his feet. He tasted darkness and terror in the bond and, faster than conscious thought, he was running. Lightsaber alive and hissing in his hand even though he didn't remember summoning it, Anakin burst into a room down the hall, teeth bared, ready to kill whatever Sith thought they could attack someone on his ship— but there was nothing.

Anakin stood, blinking numbly. His 'saber dipped toward the floor, its uneven blue glow and the light from the doorway illuminating a room completely empty, except for Obi-Wan. His master lay on the bunk, the sheets tangled and torn off, clearly asleep but taut with distress. He had stripped down to an undershirt and pants, but sweat matted his hair, and his breath came in panicked gasps. It took a long, long minute before Anakin's sluggish brain put together what his eyes were seeing with what he could feel in the Force, connecting the pieces to come to an obvious conclusion.

Obi-Wan was having a nightmare.

Extinguishing his lightsaber, Anakin stumbled to the bunk and grabbed Obi-Wan's arm and shoulder. "Master," he said, shaking him slightly. "Master, wake up!"

A grip as hard as durasteel trapped his wrist, twisting it sharply and yanking Anakin down with leverage that strained his shoulder in its socket. Before he could even exclaim in surprise, Obi-Wan struck out in a practiced move and caught Anakin right in the face with a closed fist.

"Kriff!" Reeling back, Anakin clapped a hand to his cheek and ran his tongue over his teeth. He didn't think there was any blood. His 'saber hilt had gone flying across the room somewhere, and he called it back into his hand, eyeing Obi-Wan warily. He clipped it onto his belt, deciding not to try the same approach again. "Master," he said, and then louder, _"Master."_

There was no response. Still trapped in the horror of his dream, Obi-Wan couldn't hear him. Anakin sighed. He took a deep breath, and then opened his side of the bond. In an overwhelming rush, he amplified every impulse to the pitch of a scream and then dumped everything down the link at once.

Obi-Wan came sputtering awake, as if Anakin had splashed cold water over him. Blind with confusion, he propped himself up on one elbow. "Wh— Anakin?"

"That's me," said Anakin. His head had already been throbbing, and being punched hadn't helped at all with that. Bending down, he tried not to groan like an eighty-year-old as he picked up the blankets that had been thrown from the bunk.

Groggy, his mind still echoing with shadows, Obi-Wan said, "Anakin. She said you were dead."

Anakin shut the door. "Not dead. Just punched in the face."

"Oh." Obi-Wan cleared his throat, a soft sound in the darkness. "Good."

When he sat down on the side of the bunk, Obi-Wan's fingers circled his wrist again, this time gently. His skin was clammy, and Anakin could feel the almost imperceptible way he was trembling. Sometime soon, when he had more brain to spare, Anakin was going to spend a lot of time thinking about what he had sensed — fear and anger, mixed in that particular, familiar, tempting way, from Obi-Wan? Impossible. Maybe exhaustion was making him hallucinate.

"I never punched _you_ in the face during a nightmare," said Anakin as he draped the blankets around his shoulders as if they were a cape.

"Because I kept a guard up," Obi-Wan murmured.

Lifting his arms, the blankets hanging down like bat wings, Anakin pitched forward and trapped Obi-Wan under one wing. He found a position where they were both under the sheets, one of Obi-Wan's legs under his, and his arm slung across his master's chest. Anakin's eyes fell closed again easily. They had never really wanted to open in the first place, and he could feel sleep still hovering nearby, waiting to engulf him.

Ineffectually, Obi-Wan's hand pressed against Anakin's shoulder. "I don't think crushing me is helping much, Anakin."

"Yeah, well I don't think punching me in the face was very helpful either," muttered Anakin, the words slurred against Obi-Wan's shirt. "Shut up, Master. Go back to sleep."

He heard the quiet thud of Obi-Wan's head dropping back against the pillow, and then a noise his master made that sounded like, "Ugh."

Already half-drowsing, Anakin yawned and stretched luxuriously into the bond. Obi-Wan was unsettled in the Force, mind churning like the waters of a lake during a storm, but he accepted Anakin's touch. When he breathed, Anakin felt the rise and fall of Obi-Wan's chest as if it were his own. In minutes they were both asleep, darkness driven away by the beat of their hearts in sync.


End file.
